


Honey & Hell Hounds

by sweetbunnygirl



Series: Honey Trilogy [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Cheesy, Classic Cars, Cute, Dancing and Singing, Did I mention pie?, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Secrets, Flirting, Flirty Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Horny Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, Pick-Up Lines, Pie, Protective Dean Winchester, Romantic Fluff, Secrets, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soft Dean Winchester, Star Trek References, Sweet, also pie, so many Star Trek references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23557591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbunnygirl/pseuds/sweetbunnygirl
Summary: With just a year to live, Dean meets Lou Smith. The way she smiles makes his heart skip a beat, and the closer he comes to the end, the more he's drawn in by her presence. As Dean faces down hell hounds, Lou offers him comfort and possibly a way to stay out of hell.Part 1 of 3
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Honey Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695550
Comments: 73
Kudos: 35





	1. Pie, Dimples, and Silverware

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! Please check out the notes at the end for some more info on the story to come!
> 
> Not sure that people do this anymore but full disclaimer I don't own, nor am I affiliated, with the writers, owner, producers, etc of Supernatural the TV show. I'm just a humble fan trying to hone my craft and it just so happens that I love the show.
> 
> Honey & Hell Hounds starts just after Season 3 Episode 2. Part 1 will end with Season 3 Episode 16. Part 2 will pick up from there!
> 
> Happy Reading!

“’Yello,” Bobby’s casual greeting crackled over the line.

“Hey Bobby,” Dean responded with a smile. No matter what was going on in the world Bobby’s voice was always a comfort.

“You boys a’right?” Bobby followed up when Dean didn’t immediately ask a question.

“Yeah, we’re fine, just dropping you a line on our way upstate. Gotta possible case up in Marietta, Vermont. Heard of it?” Dean asked eyeing the map in Sammy’s lap.

“Yea’, I heard of it. Nice place, good people. I’m surprised to hear there’s a case up that way though. Lou keeps a pretty good eye out,” Bobby mused.

“Lou?” Dean echoed. “I don’t think I know a Lou.”

“Of course, you don’t know Lou, ya idjit,” Bobby snapped. “What kinda case ya thinkin’?”

“Just a questionable amount of unexplained deaths, going on a hunch really,” Dean replied truthfully. Even if it was just a hunch, it was the only thing either of them could catch a bite on and Dean was thankful for any case. He hated being idle. The less work they had the more likely he was to let mind wonder to the hell hounds.

“Fair enough. Listen, I’ll make sure Lou knows y’all coming. You’ll want to meet up at a shop in town called The Windowsill,” Bobby explained.

“The Windowsill? What the hell is that?” Dean practically sneered.

“You’ll like it, trust me. They sell pie,” Bobby answered.

Dean brightened up at that prospect, “Pie?”

“Yes pie,” he repeated exasperated. “Lou ’ll probably put you up while you’re in town, so be on your best behavior. Ya hear?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll call if things get interesting,” Dean rolled his eyes a bit at Sammy.

“A’right. Talk at cha later,” With that Bobby hung up and Dean snapped his phone shut.

“Who the hell is Lou?” Sammy’s brow was knitted with its usual concern.

Dean shrugged, “Friend of Bobby’s, I guess. Bobby says he’ll put us up while we’re in town?”

Sammy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “A hunter?”

Dean’s hand tightened a bit on the wheel, “Bobby didn’t say exactly. Just said that ‘Lou keeps an eye out.’ Whatever that means.”

“Retired maybe?” Sammy suggested.

Dean was wracking his brain trying to think of stories that he might have heard with Lou’s name and came up blank.

“Maybe…” Dean muttered to himself

“Either way, we’re getting free digs and there’s gonna be pie so- I’m game,” Dean flashed a grin and reached over to turn up the radio.

* * *

It was just approaching evening as the brothers came up on their destination. It turned out the town of Marietta was picture perfect. Dean drove past charming farmhouses with idealistic red barns and as they got into the town the roads shifted from asphalt to brick. Each street was lined with classic wrought iron streetlamps that lit up quaint Victorian townhouses and neat rows of shops leading to the center of town.

Right on the corner of Main Street sat The Windowsill shop. Underneath the name of the cafe were the words: ‘Pies. Coffee. Quiches.’  
The big glass window was framed like a homey kitchen window with soft pink gingham curtains and a clean white counter stretched across the bottom like a windowsill lined with perfect looking pies.

“Thank God for Pie,” Dean swore to himself as he parked the Impala.

Sammy scoffed, but looked just as eager to get out of the car after such a long drive.

Dean parked the Impala right up front and practically jumped out of the car and to the door of the shop.

Opening the door let out a rush of scents. The smell of pastry and coffee wrapped him up and carried the more subtle scents of apples and chocolate. There was even a sinful scent of bacon hiding among the melody of sweet smells.

His mouth instantly watered as he whispered aloud, “It’s heaven.”

He didn’t even bother waiting for Sammy. There were two people in matching pink gingham aprons talking at the register as Dean eyed the rows of pie leading him to check out. The two employees appeared to be a teenager and their manager and while Dean didn’t want to interrupt, he did desperately want pie.

With his big goofy grin spread from ear to ear he bounced into place opposite them.

“Excuse me, but um, which one of these is making the bacon smell?” He inquired.

The woman responded with a laugh, “That would be the ‘Don’t Go Bacon My Heart’ Quiche.’” She gave a flirty wink and chuckled at her own joke, “Depending on how long you’re in town we have a Bourbon Bacon Pecan Pie, a Bacon Apple Cheddar Pie, and a Maple Breakfast quiche, which of course includes bacon.”

Dean thought he might cry, “This really is heaven.”

The young woman gave him an inviting smile, “That’s what we strive for.”

Dean couldn’t help but be just as swept up by her as he was by the pie. She looked warm and happy. She had a pleasantly plump figure with a creamy complexion, soft honey brown curls, and flushed cheeks with dimples he could drown in.

Sammy cleared his throat behind Dean and snapped him out of his trance.

Dean gave the woman a tilted grin as he ordered, “I’ll take one of those Bacon ones, a slice of apple, and a slice of cherry.”

“Ice cream or whipped cream with either of those?” She asked casually watching the teenager use the register.

Dean’s eyes widened at the prospect, “Dear God, BOTH.”

The woman gave another small laugh, “Warmed up?”

Dean nodded vigorously, “And a cup of joe.”

The woman gave a curt nod in reply and pointed to something on the screen while the teenager placed his order.

“And you?” She turned her pretty eyes up to Sammy and Dean couldn’t help but be disappointed at losing her attention.

“I’ll take one of the Mini Green Monster Quiches and some coffee,” Sam ordered carelessly.

The young woman tilted her head to one side, “No pie?”

“Health Nut,” Dean muttered accusingly.

“You know I have fresh Peach Pie, which is very good for you. Peaches are chock full of Vitamins and antioxidants. It even has an almond flour crust,” She said proudly.

Sammy raised an eyebrow, “Seriously?”

“Cross my heart,” she responded crossing her heart with a wicked smile.

Sammy gave in with half a smile and a shrug, “Alright then. Peach pie it is.”

The woman smiled and handed them two empty coffee mugs, “Perfect, I’ll get on that and Anna here will check you boys out. Take a seat wherever you like.”

She turned on her heels and busied herself with cutting the pies. Dean paid and stuffed a few extra dollars in the tip jar before meandering to the coffee bar with a happy hum.

Sammy found a place for them to sit and leaned over the table with a low voice, “Did you notice the door handle?”

Dean was lost in his coffee when he answered, “Hm?”

“The door handle was made of old silverware,” Sam explained. “Real silver.”

“What?” Dean peered over Sam’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it could just be trendy or whatever, but I thought it was weird,” Sammy straightened up in his seat as the young woman rounded the counter with a tray of food.  
She set each plate down with a smile and placed a napkin full of silverware on the table.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said with a smile.

Dean couldn’t help but smile back. Damn she was cute, her ponytail bounced as she sauntered away, and Dean leaned back a little to watch her go.

“This is real silverware too,” Sam hissed. “Do you think Bobby meant that Lou owned this place?”

Dean’s mouth was already full when he glanced around at the pink aprons and curtains. The tables and chairs were painted various shades of pastel and the pies were all served on mismatched floral china. The whole place had a fifties kitchen mixed with grandma’s place vibe and Dean had a hard time picturing any hunter running this kind of place.

“I donno, I mean I was picturing an old guy with a baseball card collection but maybe he’s the dainty sort?” Dean said it, but he wasn’t really convinced, and to top it off he didn’t really care one way or another. “Whatever man, I’m not spoiling this food with any more talk.”

He took another heavenly mouthful and groaned happily.

“De-” Sammy started, and Dean put a hand up.

“You’re ruining my moment,” Dean declared with head bowed and his eyes closed.

Sammy snorted and picked up his own mini quiche. He took a bite and his eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” Sam stared down at the food.

“Right?” Dean smiled and then firmly demanded, “Now shut up and eat.”

The brothers ate in blissful silence until the young woman made her way back to the table with a pot of coffee in hand.

“Refill?” She asked.

Dean was scrapping every last crumb from his plate as he shook his head, “I’m gonna let the taste of pie linger.”

“I’ll take another, thanks,” Sammy held out his cup and the young woman obliged. “Hey, um, we’re supposed to be meeting someone here. His name is Lou, do you know him?”

The woman blinked slowly and then buried a smile, “Lou, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s a friend of the family that our uncle told us to look up while we were in town,” Dean explained.

“Bobby wouldn’t happen to be your uncle, now would he?” She answered with a mischievous tone.

“Yeah, actually he is. You know him?” Sammy glanced at Dean with one eyebrow raised.

The woman was unable to contain her laugh, “You could say that. Let me make sure things are in order and then I can take you over to Lou’s place.”

She left the table without letting them answer and spoke with the teenager Anna for a few moments before taking off her apron and heading back to the table.

“Alright boys let's go. I’m in the little blue pickup truck. You can follow just follow me,” She flashed a grin over her shoulder and walked off, again not giving them the opportunity to respond.

Dean regretfully set down the plate he was contemplating licking clean and the two brothers hurried after her.

The little pickup whipped around the corner and then waited patiently for them to pull out of their parking space before continuing. By the streetlamps he could just barely tell that it was painted a perfect pearly blue for the cheerful waitress. He’d been a little distracted by the pie today, but he was hoping that tomorrow he would get the chance to hit on her.

She drove them just past the edge of town and pulled onto a gravel driveway with a mailbox labeled ‘Lou Smith’. The long driveway wound its way through dense woods and Dean felt an itch of mistrust and apprehension, but he thought about the silver and the fact that the girl knew Bobby without them even saying his name and decided it was probably alright. A few minutes later they finally pulled into a clearing with a white Victorian Farmhouse looming in the tree line.

The waitress drove around the back of the house to carriage style garage and got out to open the old wooden doors. She waved them on so that they could park first and then hopped back into her truck and parked next to them.

There was a third car in the garage, but it was covered with an old canvas tarp and Dean found himself getting more and more curious about what kind of man Lou was. A shut-in maybe?

As he got out of the car he glanced over at the house and it dawned on him that while the porch lights were on, not a single light was on inside the house.

The young woman smiled at them as she came around the back of her truck.

“You boys sure are trusting for Hunters,” She teased.

Dean tensed a little but reminded himself that she knew Bobby, “We go by word of mouth, Bobby sent us to Lou and you know both of them.”

She smiled, “Bobby’s good people, but I think he’s having a bit of fun at your expense today.”

Sammy and Dean glanced at each other and then back at the woman as she made her way to the porch and flashed the brothers her keys over her shoulder. Dean briefly caught sight of a small stuffed animal hanging off the key ring.

“Come on boys, let’s get you settled for the night,” She laughed as she unlocked the door and pushed it open, leaving the boys out in the cold as she traipsed in and started flipping on lights.

When the brother’s called Bobby he did have a good chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah. Real funny Bobby,” Sammy rolled his eyes and Lou laughed openly.

“I mean it sort of was? I can’t believe you let me drive you all the way out here and parked your car in the garage and everything,” Lou was holding her stomach as she laughed.

“Well, you knew Bobby, and worst case I figured we could take you,” Dean replied defensively.

Lou snorted and Dean snapped, “You’re the one that’s too trusting. We could have been possessed or anything.”

Lou rolled her eyes, “Puhlease. You both touched the silver, and there was a devil’s trap in the ceiling of my shop and the garage. Plus, I have a salt line glued to the door jam. If  
you were a threat you wouldn’t have made it this far.”

Dean paused, “You glued salt where?”

“On that thing where the door butts up against the floor. I glued a salt line to it. All the doors and windows have it… do you not do that?” She asked seriously.

Dean blinked, only slightly impressed by the idea, but he quickly covered with a scoff, “Of course, but the door jamb is on the side not the bottom.”

“Well then what’s the thing on the bottom called??” Lou snapped back.

“It’s called a threshold,” he answered, proud of himself for knowing what it called.

Lou bristled, “Well that sounds stupid. It’s all formal and shit.”

Dean shrugged dismissively, “Hey man, it’s not my fault. That’s just what it’s called.”

Lou wrinkled her nose, “Whatever. Point being, I wasn’t in any danger.”

“Well- ” Dean started.

“Well nothing!” Bobby’s voice crackled over speaker phone, “If you two could refrain from flirting for just a moment I’ll properly introduce ya.”

Lou stuck out her tongue at the phone even though Bobby couldn’t see her and then obviously avoided making eye contact with Dean.

“Lou here is the daughter of an old acquaintance, Stanly Grosbin. He passed through there oh, ten or so years ago and uh…” Bobby trailed off.

“Died,” Lou finished for him. “He died.”

Lou’s eyes briefly glossed over, but she cleared her throat and continued, “Anyway, this little old lady we rescued offered to take me in. She gave me a home here and when she passed, she left me everything and I stuck around. I don’t regularly hunt anymore but I do my best to keep the town safe and give hunters a place to stay.”

She smiled at the Winchesters and Dean fought to keep his heart from skipping a beat.

“Now, you boys best behave yourselves while you’re there. If you make a mess of her house, I’ll drive all the way there to put cha in your place,” Bobby warned.  
Dean took the opportunity to glance around the house again and realized that while the furnishings and style was old fashioned, it was extremely clean. The wooden floors shone, the mantle was dust free, and it even smelled clean.

“I’ll do my best to clean up after Dean,” Sammy smirked a little and Lou laughed.

“I had a feeling you would be the messy one,” she teased throwing Dean a wicked smile.

“Don’t let Sam fool you, they’re both slobs,” Bobby corrected.

“Look who’s talking, you own a junkyard Bobby,” Sammy snapped back.

“A junkyard is messy by definition; her house is a fully restored Victorian ya idjit.” Bobby sighed heavily, “Alright, enough bickering. I’ve done my due diligence. You boys be safe, and it was nice chatting with you Lou.”

“You too Bobby. You should come visit again soon,” Lou said with a wisp of sadness in her voice.

“I can probably manage that. You know I’ll be there in the fall. I wouldn’t miss your pumpkin pie if you paid me,” Bobby’s tone was a little softer than Dean expected it to be.

“I’ll make sure to save you a whole pie. Bye Bobby. Love you,” Lou smiled warmly.

“You too sweet pea. Bye boys,” and with that the phone clicked off.

Dean and Sammy both stared at Lou bewildered. Neither of them had seen or heard Bobby be that… affectionate?

Sammy cleared his throat, “You and Bobby must be close, huh?”

Lou just smiled, “Yeah. I’d probably have ended up with him if Ms. Roe hadn’t offered to take me in. He visited a lot when I first moved in, but he only comes a few times a year now. He talks about you boys a lot so it’s a bit odd to meet you in person. I feel sorta like I know you already.”

“You talk to him a lot?” Dean asked.

“A few times a week, don’t you?” Lou asked innocently.

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Well, I mean we call him about cases and stuff.”

“Oh,” Lou looked puzzled. “He talks about you so fondly I always pictured you guys talking all the time.” She laughed. “I suppose that’s just like boys though. God forbid you act like you like each other.”

Lou yawned and then smiled sheepishly, “Well, I gotta be up in a few hours so let me give you a tour before I head to bed.”

She fished two small key rings from her pocket and handed one to each of them.

“The keys are all labeled,” she explained. “And since you’re Bobby’s boys you can keep those for good in case you ever come back to town. Just make sure to let me know if you lose them. There’s an alarm code for the door and I’ll set yall both up with your own code. The barn has got a backhoe in case you gotta burry something and some other bulk supplies. It’s also set up for a demon should the need arise. Follow me.”

She led them back to the front door and walked them both through setting up a code using a little panel next to the coat rack, “Next time you come by you can come right in. Normally I give people temporary password but since Bobby’s vouched for you, I think permanent ones are ok.”  
Lou winked at Dean and he responded with a sexy grin. He could have sworn he caught a faint blush across her cheeks, but she turned away before he could be sure.  
“The living room, of course, is where we just were. There’s cable on the tv, but no pay-per-view. This is the Library and the weapons cabinet is in here too. The dining room, nothing special going on in here, and the kitchen.” She paused here with a content sigh, “This room is my favorite. Help yourself to anything you want. And upstairs the tour continues.”

“This room is yours Sammy,” she pointed to the left. “And this one is yours,” she directed Dean to the right. “The bathroom is down the hall. There are towels in your rooms and soap in the shower. I keep some spare toiletries under the sink in case they’re needed so help yourself. The sheets are fresh, and the drawers are empty if you’re so inclined. I’ve got some laundry to do tomorrow so if you leave yours in the baskets by your door, I’ll throw your stuff in.”

She turned on her heels to face them, “Now, if there’s anything else, too bad.” She laughed at her own joke before continuing. “But seriously, anything else you think you might need to know before tomorrow?”

Sammy responded first, “No way, you’ve done more than enough. This is like five-star treatment for us Lou. Thank you.”  
“I’m happy to help,” Lou stepped forward and to his surprise hugged Sammy. Their height difference was comical, and Dean stifled a laugh before realizing this probably meant that he would get a hug as well.

Just as he hoped she reached out and hugged him next. It was divine, her head tucked under his chin effortlessly and she smelled faintly of pie crust.

Dean cleared his throat when she pulled away and Sammy’s social anxiety forehead wrinkles were running up into his hair line.

“It’s really good to finally meet you guys. Sleep good, alright?” And with that she turned and headed up to the third floor.

Dean turned to Sammy with his arms outstretched, “I think we literally found paradise.”

Sammy rolled his eyes, “Come on Dean.”

“I’m serious man, there’s pie, the digs are free and there are no bed bugs or hourly rates, there’s a fully stocked kitchen, there are soft hugs from a pretty girl, and there’s pie,” Dean counted the reasons off on his fingers as he listed them.

“You mentioned food three times.” Sammy dead panned.

“Food is important, specifically pie is important. Not to mention did you hear the part about a backhoe??? We won’t even have to use shovels while we’re here. It’s not even real-life Sammy. It’s like a fantasy,” Dean pointed out.

“Your fantasy is hunting with access to a backhoe and some pie?” Sammy questioned.

“It’s pretty fucking close,” Dean answered with complete seriousness.

“It feels a little too good to be true,” Sam said quietly looking up the stairs to make sure Lou wasn’t there listening.

“Bobby vouched for her man,” Dean followed his glance.

“Nobody is that prepared for anything,” Sam’s voice was stern and untrusting.

“Dude, back off. Bobby vouched for her,” Dean repeated. “She’s had ten years to set up and a little old lady’s family fortune. If I had that kind of time and money, I’d do the same. Plus, she said she lets hunters stay here when they pass through. She’s clearly had experience with unexpected guests.”

Sam considered this for a moment but still seemed unconvinced.

“Look, until we have concrete evidence to the contrary, I say we trust her,” Dean’s tone was definitive, and Sammy relented.

“Alright,” he sighed.

“Now let’s go sleep in our separate rooms on non-motel mattresses. Okay buddy?” Dean slapped him on the shoulder with a grin.

“Right,” Sammy rolled his eyes. “Good night Dean.”

“Night Sammy,” Dean said cheerfully heading to his room.


	2. Yellow Crocodiles, Def Leppard, & Funeral Homes

When Dean woke up it was still dark outside his window. His room was calm, and his bed was warm, and he nearly went back to sleep before he heard what must have woken him up in the first place. There was a creaking footstep in the hallway and Dean was out of his bed in a flash, gun in hand.

He paused at his door, listening for another noise before throwing the door open and pointing his gun directly in the face of Lou.

She didn’t even flinch. She blinked with a mild twinkle of surprise playing in her eyes, but then she smiled casually.

“Good morning, sorry to wake you,” Her voice was soft and low in the darkness.

Dean pulled back but didn’t lower his gun completely. He glanced around the empty hall and looked back at Lou, “Everything alright?”

Lou just smiled reassuringly, “Everything is fine. I go out pretty early to set the menu for the day and help with the baking. You can make a sweep if you want.”

Dean clicked the safety on his gun a little embarrassed, “No, it’s fine. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she soothed. “I’ll be back around eight, you should go back to bed.”

“What time is it now?” Dean asked realizing that she was fully dressed in jeans and baggy hoodie.

“It’s about four in the morning,” she answered.

“Shit,” Dean ran one hand through his hair.

“Yeah, my day starts pretty early,” she said a bit sheepishly. “I head into the shop for a few hours every morning, normally I’m not there in the evenings but Anne is new, and Bobby told me to expect you.”

Dean nodded and shifted his weight. “You go in alone?” Remembering it was still pitch-black outside this time of morning.

Lou tilted her head to one side in confusion, “Well, until about eight yeah. By then my other baker is on sight.”

“Do you want some company?” Dean asked after a moment of silence.

Lou blinked again, more surprised by the offer than the gun in her face, “You don’t want to go back to sleep?”

“Nah,” he waved a hand dismissively. “I got way more sleep than normal.”

“If you’d like to, but I think you’d have to put on some clothes…” she looked away from him and Dean was suddenly very aware that he was lacking a shirt.

He gave a playful smirk and shrugged, “Or I could not.”

She stifled a laugh, “Sorry, shirtless men is a health code violation. If you’re coming hurry up, I’ll meet you at the garage.”

She stepped away and he could’ve sworn he saw her eyes pass over his shoulders approvingly before she made her way quietly down the stairs.

Dean snapped back into action and got dressed quickly. He tucked his gun into his jeans and pocketed his phone and keys before heading out to the garage. He thought of his brother as he got the front door and glanced back up the steps in consideration before whipping his phone back out. He sent Sammy a quick text, letting him know that he’d be back with breakfast, and then quietly slipped outside.

Outside Lou was already closing the garage up with her truck running just a few feet away.

She nodded at Dean and hopped in the driver’s seat before Dean got in the passenger side. The white leather bench seat was in perfect condition and he ran his hand across the dash.

“She’s in good shape,” he complimented as she pulled away from the house.

Lou nodded, “Most of it is original. 1954 Chevrolet 3100… It was Ms. Roe’s brother’s, but he died in the early 60s leaving it pretty much unused.”

“What’s the other car in the garage?” He asked.

“That’s Ms. Roe’s car…” She laughed, “It’s a 1957 Chevy Bel Air in bubble gum pink. Couldn’t bring myself to sell it and it feels weird to drive it. It still smells like Chanel no. 5.”

Dean smiled, thinking of the Impala, “What about your Dad’s car?”

Lou’s expression fell and her hands tensed on the steering wheel, “I scrapped it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, but instead of pushing he shifted the topic, “The Impala was my Dad’s, Sammy and I practically grew up in that thing.”

“It’s a nice car,” She stated with a wistful smile.

“It’s my baby,” he shrugged his shoulders with a proud grin.

Lou smiled at him out of the corner of her eye and nodded in agreement, “She’s definitely a babe.”

A silence settled in the car and Dean shifted in his seat. Perhaps coming with her was a bad idea. Pretty or not he felt awkward which wasn’t something he was used to feeling around pretty girls.

Thankfully Lou broke the silence, “What kind of case do you think you’ve got?”

“Sammy thinks it’s Ghoul,” Dean answered.

“There haven’t been any grave robberies that I know of, why a ghoul?” She glanced over as she asked, and Dean wondered how anyone could look pretty at four in the morning.

Even wearing a hoodie, she looked cute, with her big eyes turned on him he swallowed and scrambled for the explanation.

“We’ve got some unexplained deaths in the surrounding towns,” he explained. “And that in itself isn’t weird, but they all go to the same funeral home here, Jones Family Mortuary. Suspicious disposal of dead bodies, equals ghouls.”

Lou listened carefully, “Well, I won’t lie The Jones Family Mortuary is pretty creepy. It’s a family establishment and the Jones are… well… they’re odd, but I kind of thought that went with the territory of a funeral home. How far back do the deaths go?”

“Not sure yet. So far, it’s just an abnormal amount of ‘died in their sleep’ cases. I’m not sure how Sammy caught it, but he did. So,” Dean shrugged. “Here we are.”

“That’s a pretty loose case,” Lou remarked as they pulled into town.

“Yeah, well, it’s like that sometimes,” he replied defensively.

Silence settled on the truck again and Dean ventured a question of his own, “Why didn’t you keep hunting?”

“What do you mean?” Lou’s hands tightened on the wheel.

“I mean, you’re all prepped for it. You’ve got like a hunter’s base and you’re clearly still in the scene, but you don’t hunt,” Dean watched her shift uncomfortably. “No pressure, I’m just curious."

Lou chewed on the question for a moment before she answered, “I liked it here with Ms. Roe. I thought about leaving once she passed away but… I don’t know. My father had his sob story about my mom, but honestly, I was so young I don’t remember her, and he got the thing that killed her… so… It’s not like I needed to avenge her or him for that matter. We hunted as far back as I can remember and when I got the chance to step back… I took it.” She paused briefly, her knuckles white across the steering wheel. “I couldn’t give it up completely though, so I decided to just do what I could.”

She pulled up behind her bakery and turned off the truck, but she didn’t move. She took the keys out of the ignition and held them in her lap idly. Dean noticed a stuffed yellow crocodile on her key chain while he waited. She squished the crocodile lightly and there was a faraway look on her face as she stared down at it.

“I put up any hunters that come through and I do research for Bobby. I go out on jobs sometimes, but uh, not many,” she finally turned to face Dean with a smile lifting her lips, but he could tell it was an empty gesture. “So, instead I make pie.”

“Pie is good.” Dean said with a firm nod.

Lou flashed him a much more genuine smile. “Pie is good. Let’s go.”

Dean followed Lou enthusiastically.

She moved on autopilot as she entered the kitchen. Security system off, lights on, oven on, and a quick walk through the front of the shop. Lou was taking off her hoodie as she came back to the kitchen to reveal a simple white t-shirt that clung to her supple figure.

Dean couldn’t help but stare she plucked an apron from a hook and tied it in place. Luckily Lou didn’t notice his eyes trailing over her. She walked over to a large white board hanging above a cluttered desk and picked up a clipboard.

“How do you feel about Green Eggs and Ham?” She thumbed through the clipboard casually.

“Like Dr. Seuss?” Dean clarified with an amused smile.

“Yeah, like Dr. Seuss,” she agreed without looking up.

“I will not eat them in the rain?” Dean said with a shrug.

Lou gave him an amused look over her shoulder, “Good thing it’s not raining.”

She grabbed a dry erase marker and leaned up to write on the board. It was divided into a few sections labeled fruit, quiche, cream, meringue, and other. She wrote out apple, cherry, summer berry/fresh, pink lemonade, green eggs and ham, pepper trio, get smores, and peach.

“Pink lemonade?” He asked.

She nodded. “It’s just my twist on Lemon Meringue. I add hibiscus to turn it pink.”

“Get s’more?” He teased next. “Is that like, ‘get some’?”

She rolled her eyes but chuckled none the less, “I try to make puns where I can. Makes people smile.”

Lou started flipping through binders and pulled out the appropriate recipes before she started. Dean pulled a stool up to the counter and watched her work. She occasionally handed him spoons or bowls to taste from and he even volunteered to do some dishes.

They chatted occasionally but for the most part Dean just let her do her work and enjoyed the mix of smells and the growing warmth of the kitchen.

As eight o’ clock approached Lou boxed one of the quiches and turned to Dean, “I’m guessing apple is your favorite, but how about berry this morning?”

Dean smiled, “Pie is pie.”

She boxed up another pie and pushed both boxes toward him, “The one is still hot, so be careful.”

“We leavin’? Don’t you have stuff in the oven?” Dean turned to the oven in confusion.

As if on cue someone unlocked the back door and a beautiful older woman stepped through the door. She was tall and willowy with a deep umber complexion and dark hair cropped tight against her head. She had a tilt to her jaw that made her look regal as she walked.

“Good morning sweet girl,” she greeted Lou and then stopped. She locked her piercing dark eyes on Dean with one hand over her heart. “You bringin’ eye candy to work now? Because you can leave him here for my shift if you want,” she asked while her eyes roamed over Dean appreciatively.

Dean split into proud sexy grin and Lou rolled her eyes, “Sorry Maze, he’s one of Bobby’s boys.”

“Girl, is Bobby in town? Because you tell him to put on that suit of his and come right on down,” Maze pointed to the ground for emphasis with one long slender finger.

Lou laughed, “Nah, but he promised to visit soon. I’ll let him know you miss him.”

“Mmhmm. You tell him,” Maze slanted her perfect jawline upward in a kingly way before continuing with business. “Anything crazy happenin today?”

Lou shook her head as she removed the apron and traded it for her hoodie with a yawn, “No pickups, ingredients are good, and crust is all prepped.”

“Alright sweet girl, take ya boy and head home,” Maze grabbed her own apron from the hooks and tied it around her waist.

Maze winked at Dean as he followed Lou out and he winked back causing the woman to throw her head back with a laugh, her white teeth perfect and a little threatening as she watched them go with a predatory grin.

* * *

The case ended up being mostly research at first, so Dean made a habit of spending his mornings with Lou. They chatted about monsters, cars, and pie mostly. He found out that Maze and Ms. Roe had taught her how to bake and it was one of her favorite things to do.

She was pretty consistent in the mornings. He would hear her shuffle awake a little before four and she would rummage around in her room before slipping down the steps where he would be waiting. She would pick pies for the day, sometimes she’d let him pick, and he would help out where he could. She would load up one pie and one quiche just around the time the Maze would roll in. Maze would flirt with him some and then they would head back to Lou’s house.

By that time Sammy would be up with a fresh pot of coffee which Lou always seemed grateful for. She would eat breakfast with them and head up for a shower and nap while they got started on research.

It turned out that the amount of people that died in their sleep in the towns surrounding Marietta, was downright astronomical and the phenomenon dated back to the late 1880s. Which just happened to be the time that the Jones family opened up shop.

There was no discrimination of age or gender, the only thing they had in common was _where_ they’re bodies were meant to be taken after death.

“I’m seriously not sure we can call this a case Sammy,” Dean said leaning back in his chair. “I give you it’s weird, but the records that far back are sketchy at best and honestly- the dead bodies are going where dead bodies go.”

“It’s more than weird though, like the fact that none of them went to the other funeral homes around town or the country,” Sam pointed out.

Dean shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Not a single one,” Sam said definitively.

Dean scratched at the back of his head.

“That you can tell,” Dean pointed out.

Lou hadn’t gone up for her morning shower yet and was perusing through the different research they had laid out on the table. Dean liked watching her like this, tired and disinterested. She never noticed him staring in the morning, unlike after her midmorning nap when she always caught him and teased him for it. Not that he minded the teasing and the flirting, it was just nice to get a good uninterrupted look now and again.

Today she was wearing a pale gray Def Leppard ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ shirt which happened to be their topic of discussion at the bakery.

He liked that she had picked a pair of ripped up jeans to accompany the worn-out t-shirt and even a yellow scrunchie to match the printed words.

“What do you think?” Dean asked casually.

Sam looked annoyed but Dean didn’t particularly care.

Lou didn’t notice he was talking to her right away, but then glanced up when no one else spoke. She blinked, holding the coffee cup with one hand so as to point to herself with the other.

“Me?” She asked.

Dean nodded, “Yeah, you.”

The two brothers waited as she stared down at the table giving it serious thought before she replied, “I think it’s weird, but it’s also barely tangible. Short of digging up a few graves, I don’t know that you’re gonna be able to find an answer. Which might be what’s so genius about it.”

She paused for moment and trailed off as she spoke again, “It’s way smarter than any Ghoul I’ve run into.”

Dean watched her brow furrow in confusion as she leaned over the table and touched a photograph.

“When is this from?” She asked pulling the picture out to sit on top.

Sammy stood to get a good look at it, “Early 1900s, why?”

Lou stared at the photo a moment longer and then pointed, “Because that’s either a hell of a family resemblance, or Mr. Jones has a really good skin care routine.”

* * *

To his surprise Lou came down the stairs that evening with a machete on her hip. She had changed into a plain long sleeve black shirt and had some clunky work boots tightly laced over her jeans. She was holding a pair of heavy-duty work gloves in one hand and she didn’t even smile as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Her entire aura was completely different and Dean definitely didn’t see it as an improvement.

“Let’s go,” she said casually.

Sammy and Dean both looked at each other and then at her.

“Excuse me,” Dean finally said.

“I’m going, so are you losers ready or not?” She asked in annoyance.

Dean looked back at Sammy and then laughed a little, “Look, it’s nice of you to offer and all- ”

“It’s not an offer. I’m going,” Lou said plainly.

Dean bristled, “I really don’t think it’s- ”

She cut him off again. “Dean, it’s my town. These guys have been killing people under my nose for years. It’s personal and I’m going.”

Dean crossed his arms, “No.”

They locked eyes and Lou didn’t waver, “Why?”

“You’re not up to snuff,” he responded sharply.

She snarled, “Bull.”

“You bake,” he said accusingly.

“You sing in the shower,” she snapped back. “What does that have to do with anything? It’s too girly or some shit?”

Dean was a little embarrassed to think she heard him singing in the shower but stayed on topic.

“I’m not saying it’s girly I’m saying you’re not a hunter anymore,” he reasoned.

She hardened and looked him right in the eye when she said, “Dean, people don’t stop being hunters, they die.”

She walked right past him and Dean grabbed her arm and yanked her back. Her eyes flashed with anger and she dug her heels in.

“So help me god Dean, let go of my arm,” her voice was quiet and fierce.

“Not gonna happen,” he said.

She smirked and looked up at him, “Whacha gonna do hot shot, tie me up?”

Dean shrugged, “If I have to.”

“Hot,” she cooed with an icy glare.

“I’m serious Lou,” he appealed.

“So am I, got thing for rope burns,” she flaunted in the face of his sincerity.

Dean was pretty sure he blushed this time, “Lou, come on. We’ve got this.”

“I don’t know that,” she said sharply. “I’ve never seen you work.”

“Ask Bobby,” he tried.

“He’s biased,” she countered easily.

Dean was running out of ways to argue with her and was quickly becoming concerned that he might have to tie her up.

“Besides, I’ve already got my hand in it,” she remarked casually.

Dean paused, “What you mean?”

And as though it were absolutely nothing she said, “I called the Sheriff.”

Dean balked, “You what?”

Lou shrugged out of Dean’s grip, “I called the Sheriff and told him I was worried that someone was casing the bakery today and asked him to keep an eye on it. Local law enforcement will be posted on main street tonight. Normally they park out by the church, you know, where the graveyard is. Had some problems with kids drinking and partying out there. Not that _you_ would know that, seeing as it’s not _your_ town.”

Dean looked over at Sammy and his brother just shrugged, “Don’t look at me.”

Dean grimaced.

“I don’t like it,” he said finally.

Lou shrugged, her ponytail swinging carelessly with the action, “That sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

* * *

Dean groaned as he took a break to lean on his shovel, “Damn, if you were gonna tag along couldn’t we have brought the backhoe?”

Lou didn’t stop digging as she countered sarcastically, “Oh yeah, that would have been really inconspicuous.”

Dean grunted, watching her work for a moment. She had dirt smudged on her cheek and so far, hadn’t complained once. Probably trying to make a point of keeping up.

She looked up at him but didn’t say anything and turned back to the work at hand.

He pressed the shovel in the dirt again and struck gold, or rather casket.

“Awesome,” Dean groaned thankfully.

They worked together to clear the last bit of dirt and lifted the casket lid.

Just as they suspected it was empty.

Lou grimaced and slammed the thing shut.

“Fuck,” she cursed sourly.

To his surprise she tossed up the shovel and then, like it was nothing, jumped to catch the edge of the hole and pulled herself up and out without breaking a sweat. Sammy scoffed a little and Dean tried and failed to look even half as cool getting out of the grave. With his feet on solid ground again he found Lou dusting herself off aggressively.

“You alright?” He asked after a moment.

Lou glanced over her shoulder at him, “Fine, are we handling these mother fuckers tonight or what?”

Dean glanced at Sam who nodded.

“Then let’s go,” She said, not waiting for a verbal response.

Dean looked back at Sammy, who just shrugged, and they both followed her back to the Impala.


	3. Some Western

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited for content<3

As they walked back up to Lou’s house from the car Dean could plainly see the exhaustion playing on Lou’s features, but she hadn’t complained, and she’d been helpful despite Dean’s hesitation.

Between the three of them they wrecked through the whole family of ghouls pretty quickly and Lou hardly said a word as they worked or on the ride back. Dean wanted to say something, to ask if she was alright, but Lou disappeared the second they got into the house.

Sam went up to bed shortly after, but Dean didn’t feel like sleeping. He was thinking about Lou’s face when she used the machete. It had been completely blank and emotionless. He briefly thought of their discussion in her truck that first morning.

_‘So instead, I make pie.’_

Her expression had been empty then too.

The creak of the staircase interrupted his thoughts and he looked up to see Lou. She had changed back into the Def Leppard shirt along with a pair of loose sweatpants and her hair was wet.

“Wacha watching?” she asked sitting down on the other end of the couch.

Dean shrugged. “Some western.”

Lou nodded and they watched in silence for a moment before Dean decided to stop being such a chicken. “I’m sorry.”

Lou didn’t respond at first, “For what?”

Dean shuffled uncomfortably as he tried to decide how to answer. What exactly was he apologizing for? For questioning her ability as a hunter? For threatening to tie her up? For thinking about tying her up when she so brazenly said she had a thing for rope burns?

“Being a dick about you coming along,” he finally admitted.

She nodded and was quiet again, nothing but the sound of movie gun shots echoing over the tv speakers.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye but couldn’t get a read. Did that mean she accepted his apology? Was it really that simple? He tried to defend his actions by lamely adding, “I didn’t think you wanted to hunt.”

Lou kept her focus on the tv and in an agitated tone said, “Yeah, well, it’s more complicated than that.”

This time he nodded and waited silently for an explanation.

She didn’t answer until she felt his eyes trained on her, waiting. She squirmed under his gaze, her attention flickering from the him to the tv and back. She was hoping he would back down, but Dean was too stubborn for that. He turned in his seat to face her, leaning back on the arm of the couch casually.

That final action caused her to fold like a bad hand.

She looked over at him one last time before rolling her eyes up in defeat. “It was doubly complicated today. Ms. Roe didn’t like the idea of a hunter’s funeral, and she already had a plot paid for next her brother.” She gave a tired sigh as she added, “The Jones handled her service.”

Dean watched her turn to put her feet up on the couch between them, hugging her knees to her chest loosely. The action made her look small and vulnerable in a way she hadn’t before. Something about it made him think of a stray cat, the way she curled herself up defensively and refused to look at him.

She took a moment to collect herself and then, finally, looked over at Dean.

“I was hoping Sammy was wrong,” she said honestly.

Dean took a moment to let her explanation soak in. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like knowing that someone like Bobby or Pastor Jim had their bodies devoured after being laid to rest. That was the point of a hunter’s funeral, to put the loved ones at ease and Lou had been robbed of that comfort. No wonder she was so insistent on going.

“You could have told us that,” he commented softly.

Lou just shrugged. “I don’t think it would have changed your mind.”

He wanted to say something, anything really, but nothing came to mind. She was probably right, if she’d confessed it was personal, he would’ve said it was all the more reason for her not to go. He would’ve called her a liability, despite knowing he would’ve done the same thing if it were him in her shoes.

Lou kept quiet and watched the movie absently. She was still loosely holding her knees to her chest with just her head turned to watch the tv. Her eyes followed the movie blankly, trailing after the movement of men on horseback with a face he could only describe as lonely.

Dean had a feeling that was all he was going to get from the conversation and switched topics to something more practical and less emotional. “Don’t you have to be up in like an hour?”

Lou shook her head. “I asked Maze to take over for the day, so you’re stuck with me.”

Dean gave a slight shrug and a tilted grin. “That’s not so bad.”

She gave him a tired smile in exchange and turned her attention back to the tv.

After a few casual comments on the movie he looked over to see her fast asleep. He couldn’t help but feel it meant something for her to fall asleep next to him. Perhaps it was just exhaustion, but he chose to see it as trust. He studied her there, in that vulnerable position next to him, noting that her wet hair looked curlier than it did when she put it up and that she had chipped red nail polish on her toes. For some reason it amused him to think of Lou getting her nails done and he imagined it was probably Maze’s idea.

She shifted slightly, curling towards the back of the couch for support as she slept.

He scooted closer and reached out to touch her shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You should go up to bed.”

She half opened one eye and gestured blindly to the movie. “Movie’s not over.”

Dean bit his lip to keep from laughing. The action was hopelessly cute.

“You’re not even watching the movie,” he pointed out as she closed her eyes again.

She made a noise like a deflating balloon and said, “My house.”

Despite the ridiculous noise Lou’s tone was that of infallible reasoning and it was a moment before she spoke again more seriously.

“I’d rather stay here if you don’t mind my company,” she said, just barely opening her eyes to look at him.

He smiled at her lazily. “I don’t mind.”

“Good,” she replied smugly and as soon as she said it, she promptly went back to sleep.

Dean tried not laugh as he settled into the couch next to her. He thought about Lisa’s house that they left not too long ago, and he wondered if this is what it was like to have a home. A place where after a long day he could fall asleep on the couch next to a pretty girl knowing it was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few updates for today...
> 
> Firstly I only have one chapter left to edit/add to in Part 1! And then it's officially finished. It's just over 100 pages on it's own so I'm pretty excited. Part 2 is now under going finalization!
> 
> Second- I might have some doodles of Lou and Dean in the near future!
> 
> Thirdly, thanks to everyone for their comments:') I'm overjoyed to see people enjoying it!!
> 
> Lastly I did some format editing. Hopefully it's a little more cohesive now!
> 
> As always please feel free to add constructive criticism, I'm always striving to improve.


	4. Kansas, Star Trek, and the Dean Fan Club

Lou’s name on his phone made Dean’s heart jump. They’d only left a few days ago- was something wrong? Was she ok? Maybe they’d just forgotten something, he thought to himself in a failed attempt to not panic.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he fumbled to answer the call and frantically flipped open the phone. “Lou? What’s wrong?”

“What?” Lou’s voice answered in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated. “Are you alright?”

“What do you mean? Why would something be wrong?” she asked.

Dean paused. “I. Well. I don’t know. You called, and it hasn’t been that long since we left. I just assumed…”

Lou snorted and then burst into a loud laugh. He could just picture her bent over her stomach in hysterics and the sound coupled with the mental image made him smile.

“You’re such a dork,” she teased. “I was just checking in. How was the drive out to Kansas?”

Dean wasn’t sure how to answer. How was the drive? Is that what normal people asked when you drove cross country?

“Um, long. Boring. It’s Kansas though, so you can’t expect much…” He relaxed back into the motel bed and imagined her face while they talked.

“Hm…” she hummed in agreement. “How’s the case?”

“Well. Uh. It’s definitely a case. Werewolves looks like,” he replied clumsily, still trying to get a handle on the conversation.

“Any idea how many?” she continued despite his awkwardness.

Dean shook his head. “Not yet.”

Silence crinkled over the phone line and it dawned on him that she just called to talk. To talk specifically to him, and he was blowing it.

Dean cleared his throat and asked nervously, “It’s kind of late for you, isn’t it?”

He could picture Lou’s sleepy smile over the line as she answered, “Yeah, but I knew your lazy ass wouldn’t call me, so I decided to make the first move.”

“Why’d you wait till your bedtime then?” he taunted while idly wondering what she was wearing and if her hair was up or down.

After seeing her wet hair down, he’d been painfully curious as to what she looked like without the scrunchy. Just how curly was it before she tamed and wrangled into submission? He liked the idea of her with wild curls about her cheeks coupled with those dimples he couldn’t get enough of.

“Cause Star Trek came on and made me think of you.” Her words made him smile as he pictured her curled up on the couch watching tv.

“Oh man, original?” Dean asked with a laugh.

“Of course, I mean, no offense to Next Gen but cheesy Kirk is where it’s at. It’s like right up there with Adam West Batman,” Lou explained.

Dean used his best announcer voice to mimic, “Same Bat time…”

“Same Bat channel!” she finished with an equally poor announcer bravado.

The phrase brought to mind some of the more pleasant memories of his childhood, watching late night reruns with his father and miming the actions of young Dick Grayson. He liked to imagine himself as Robin and his Dad as Batman. That fantasy lasted a lot longer than he cared to admit.

Dean carefully veered the subject to something less embarrassing for him. “How’d you know I liked Star Trek?”

She yawned into the phone. “I mean really, who doesn’t?”

“Uncultured swine?” Dean thought of his brother who loathed Star Trek.

“Exactly,” she quipped.

They both laughed and Dean shuffled the phone from one ear to the other, he was suddenly glad Sammy wasn’t with him. He kind of liked having Lou all to himself, and he had missed spending the early hours of the morning alone with her at the bakery.

Lou’s next question held a little hesitation, “Bobby is gonna visit in September, do you think you can make it?”

Dean thought of visiting Lou for pleasure instead of business, and then shook off the thought. “As long as there aren’t any monsters in our way.”

“Right.” This time he heard the sound of Lou shuffling, and he imagined her reclining back against the couch with her cheek pressed into the phone and he found himself thinking about her lips.

“You could come back other than that you know. Between cases or whatever.” Her voice was much softer over the phone and surprisingly sensual which was making it hard to keep his mind off her mouth.

Dean couldn’t help but tease her, “You miss me already, Princess?”

Lou scoffed with a flippant, “Nope.”

“Oh, come on, tell the truth,” Dean flirted shamelessly.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to infer but Maze has missed you terribly, she’s been dying since the moment you left. She’s started a fan club and everything.” Lou’s wit was as quick as ever and he gladly played along.

“Oh man, and you didn’t join?” he asked with abject horror and disbelief.

She sighed heavily. “I mean, I thought about it but there was a membership fee and a uniform… I just couldn’t make that kind of commitment.”

Dean laughed. “Is the uniform hot?”

“Omg, smoking. It’s flannel and like- I mean, you just have to see it to believe it,” she teased.

The thought of Lou's buxom figure in an unbuttoned flannel immediately accosted him. Not just any flannel either, but one of his own. He imagined the red fabric against her pale skin and her honey brown hair mussed from his own hands. The picture spiraled into a full fantasy as he thought of running his hands through her tempting curls and kissing her sweet lips. Dean actively pushed away the fleeting image of Lou in his shirt. For some reason, he didn’t want to be that kind of guy to Lou. The one-night stand or passing-through-fuck-buddy deal just didn’t sit right with him. Especially not with a looming _dead_ line on the horizon.

“Man, I guess I just gotta come back to see it, huh?” he said in a tone of defeat.

“Guess so.” Lou gave another loud, exaggerated sigh as though she felt bad for him.

Sammy barged in the motel room before he could say anything more. Dean wished that Sam had knocked because the sound of him entering the room rubbed him the wrong way and Sam's presence felt invasive, as though he'd interrupted something important despite the fact that it was nothing more than a phone call. Not to mention it was Sam's room too, so there was no reason he should've knocked in the first place.

“Soups on.” Sammy set down the bags in his hand and the drink container. He raised an eyebrow at Dean’s phone. “Who’s that?”

Dean moved the phone away from his mouth slightly. “Lou.”

“Everything ok?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, she’s fine. Just um, checking in…” Dean flashed his brother a tilted grin.

“Good grief you boys need to get a social life. I’m gonna call again, and nothing is gonna be wrong. Alright?” Lou’s voice was stern and agitated in his ear.

“Gotcha,” Dean responded trying to hold back another laugh.

“Alright. I’m going to bed. Be safe and eat a vegetable once and while why don’t you?” she scolded.

“Ketchup is totally a vegetable,” Dean said firmly. “And sometimes there’s lettuce on my burger.”

He could just picture Lou rolling her eyes. “Whatever, good night, boys.”

“Sleep well, Lou,” he responded affectionately.

She hung up first and Dean smiled at the phone absently. The idea that she would call again made him feel strangely giddy. He got up and headed to the table while Sam was unloading the food and sat down cheerfully.

“When did you guys get so close?” Sammy asked as he unwrapped his burger.

Dean didn’t really know how to answer, so he shrugged. Were they close? Is that what the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest was? Closeness? He thought about falling asleep on the couch with her after their hunt and all the hours he spent with her in the bakery. He thought about how she looked in the early hours of the morning and her sleepy smile. He thought about how she hugged him goodbye and squeezed him before she let go; she'd even stood on the porch and waved them off as he pulled away from the farmhouse.

While Dean was lost in his own thoughts, Sam brooded.

“I still say she’s suspicious,” Sammy grumbled.

Dean shot him a glare over his burger. “Suspicious how?” Dean asked in annoyance.

Sam lifted his shoulders into a shrug. “My best guess? She’s hiding from something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to let you guys know there has been a content edit on the previous chapter.
> 
> Also I promise you will have doodles next time<3 I just didn't have time to upload them this morning.
> 
> There should be a One Shot posted sometime this weekend! So keep an eye out!
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and encouragement<3


	5. Bruises, ABBA, and Buzz Cuts

Lou collapsed onto the couch as her answering machine played.

Her entire body ached from the effort of a grueling hunt. She’d been called in by an inexperienced hunter dealing with their first demon, and she didn’t have the heart to turn them down. Lou ran her fingers slowly over her ribs and found what she could only assume was one, maybe two, fractured ribs.

“Damn,” she grumbled to herself.

She listened to Maze over the answering machine, something about a special order followed by a ‘call me when you get back in’. The next message was from Bobby, just a quick ‘checkin’ up’ and ‘makin’ sure you’re doing ok.’ There was a telemarketing call and a call from a local store to let her know her order was in. There was even something from Bella about a shipment of clay from Jerusalem.

She made a mental note of what calls she needed to return and felt herself drifting off to sleep when Dean’s voice started up over the speaker.

Lou instantly sat up at attention.

“Hey Lou, it’s Dean. Just wanted to let you know we’ve got a break between cases and we’re gonna drop by for a few days to rest up. Sammy might have got himself shot. He’s fine, but a few days of shore leave couldn’t hurt.” He chuckled. “We’ll probably be there tomorrow evening? It’s a Monday afternoon now, so… Tuesday night.”

Lou cursed quietly and glanced up at the clock. It was already coming up on six in the evening. She jumped to her feet, snatched her bag up from beside the stairs, and zipped up to her room.

She wanted to go straight to bed, but with company coming she needed to wash the road off and get the house in order. There were already clean towels in the bathroom and she had changed the guest bedroom sheets last week. There wasn’t a lot of food in the fridge, but she could probably get away with it until tomorrow morning when she had the chance to go out. She thought about what to do for dinner and reasoned she could order pizza and slip the delivery guy extra cash to pick up pie and booze. Johnny was always up for extra cash.

She carelessly tossed her bag down in her room and headed for the bathroom. First and foremost, she needed a shower. A scolding hot shower to wash away hours on the road and the smell of death that lingered on her skin.

Lou winced as she lifted her shirt up over her head. She grazed her fingers over the blossoming bruise and inspected it in the mirror. Damn. When was the last time she went out on case where she got injured?

Her hand lingered, checking for the edges of the bruise and wondering how bad it would be in the coming days. She sighed softly, her hand straying to one of her many scars. Lou gently traced the knotted flesh across her stomach. Age had not diminished the long jagged marks across her skin, each one a painful reminder of her childhood.

She chewed the inside of her cheek as the memories tried to seep in. She abruptly shook them off and looked at herself in the mirror.

“You don’t have time for that now,” she scolded herself harshly. Her golden-brown eyes sharp in her reflection.

She showered quickly, scrubbing vigorously as though she might be able to wash the scars away with the smell. She didn’t bother taking a moment to relax when she was finished, she quickly turned off the shower and began to dry off. Lou didn’t like to be caught off guard. She was the kind of person who was always prepared, and while she hadn’t expected the Winchesters, she didn’t want them to know that.

She toweled off her hair gently and glanced at her cellphone which was balanced on the edge of the sink precariously.

Lou pursed her lips, no missed calls. It was a little after six now. What time should she expect them?

She rummaged around in her dresser drawers for a shirt and settled on vintage black Abba shirt and pair of worn dark jeans before heading back to the bathroom. She put some conditioning cream in her hair and kept one eye on the phone as she worked.

Still no call. Where they still coming? Maybe, since she never called back, they had stopped off somewhere else?

She snatched the phone up and dialed Dean’s number.

Three rings in he picked up.

“Geesh woman, I’m on my way already,” he whined as a greeting. “I can only drive so fast.”

She laughed. “I was just calling for your ETA, loser.”

“You gonna start a count down?” he teased.

“Well I was gonna order pizza and call up the fan club but…” she responded with an easy shrug.

He sucked in a breath and it hissed through his teeth as he considered her offer. “You know, as much as I want to see that uniform, I don’t think I’m up for the paparazzi tonight.”

“Good to know.” She giggled. “So, ETA?”

“ETA?” he echoed softly.

There was a shuffling noise, followed by a muffled voice in the background before Dean answered, “Maybe an hour?”

“Perfect, see you then,” she said with a smile.

She grinned down at her phone helplessly as she hung up. She wasn’t sure what it was about Dean that made her heart lighter, but the ache and exhaustion she felt just moments ago evaporated.

* * *

Dean and Sam arrived within the hour and Lou was well prepared with a few pizzas, two six packs, and two apple pies. The boys tore through the pizza and the beer and Lou’s day had been bad enough that she broke out a bottle of whiskey to top them off. Sam decided to crash early due to his injuries, but Lou and Dean whittled the bottle down while they watched tv together.

With the night winding down, and the whiskey bottle looking low, Lou excused herself to the kitchen to wash up the plates they used.

The fatigue she had managed to evade earlier in the evening was starting to encroach on her again. She yawned and began to hum to herself softly.

Dean had teased her good naturedly about her Abba shirt, and she had Dancing Queen stuck in her head as a result.

Her humming quickly morphed into singing, but she found herself trailing off as she considered her own life at seventeen. The liquor and exhaustion making her sentimental. She certainly didn’t have a normal life, but by that age it was the closest she’d ever been to normal. She wasn’t on the road anymore, and she was just beginning to feel safe with Ms. Roe.

“Forget the words there, Princess?” Dean’s voice startled her out of her thoughts.

He was standing next to her, leaning back against the counter nonchalantly with his green eyes sparkling mischievously. Lou often forgot just how handsome Dean was until the inopportune moment that he flashed a boyish grin and she fumbled to respond.

She turned her nose up and returned to her task of washing dishes. “Of course not, I was just thinking.”

She hoped that the flush on her cheeks was excusable by the alcohol she’d consumed.

“Thinking about what?” he asked.

She paused again her expression growing distant.

“About being seventeen I guess,” she answered honestly.

Dean quirked up an eyebrow and smirked. “Yeah?”

She rolled her eyes up and began to rinse the dishes off without saying anything back.

“I bet you were smokin’,” he said charmingly.

She threw her head back with a laugh. “Oh my god. Not even close!”

“What? Come on!” he jeered. “Be honest.”

She shook her head. “Dude, I was skinny as a rail, wore a binder over my chest, and had a buzz cut.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “You’re shitting me!”

She gave him half a smile. “I couldn’t make shit like that up.”

“Why?” he asked seriously.

She shrugged. “My father wasn’t much for encouraging femininity. Things like hair and boobs just get in the way I guess.”

“Did it bother you?” He watched her carefully.

Lou shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she answered, “No, I mean, I didn’t realize it was weird until I got here.” She thought for a moment about seventeen specifically. “I guess, it was a little better by the time I was seventeen. My hair had grown out a little by then.”

Dean reached out and pulled on a stray curl gently, letting it spring back into place with a grin. “I can’t imagine you without curls.”

She laughed a little. “Yeah, it definitely wasn’t a good look for me. I bet you were a heartbreaker though,” she teased him.

He just smirked and gave an arrogant shrug. “Well you know. I’m just irresistible like that.”

She snorted. “Oh yeah. Totally.”

Dean was quiet for a moment as she finished up and then asked, “Did you ever go to any dances?”

Lou scoffed, “Are you kidding me? No way.”

“You wanna?” he asked playfully.

She gave him a look as she shook her wet hands over the sink and searched for a towel. “Do I want to go to a dance?”

Dean pulled out his phone and stood up as he scrolled through it.

She spotted a towel across the kitchen and went to grab it as the familiar tune of Dancing Queen started to pour out of Dean’s phone.

Lou spun back around to find Dean grinning like an idiot and setting down his phone on the counter. He pointed to her dramatically and wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

He sang along with the opening lines, badly, and she burst into laughter.

“You’re crazy,” she said backing away from him.

He just gave her a lazy smile and held out a hand. “Come on, dance with me.”

The first verse started, and Lou couldn’t help but sing along as she reached out to take his hand. Dean began to do some slow disco moves, making her laugh through the words.

They danced together, singing at the top of their lungs badly, and Dean spun her around the kitchen like it was a dance floor. The song ended with her hand still in Dean’s and the two of them smiled like fools as the next one began. The next song was beyond unexpected, and Lou lost it all over again as she bent forward with laughter.

“No way! You’ve got Total Eclipse of the Heart on your phone?” She covered her mouth and Dean just shrugged.

“Bonnie Tyler kills this song,” he defended himself with a cheesy smile, his hand still gripping hers.

He tugged her a little closer and started to sing along. Again, Lou lost herself in the silliness of it all and sang with him.

The giggles dwindled and Dean pulled her closer still. His hand naturally fell to her waist and her hand came up to his shoulder.

They danced slowly, trading off cheesily singing to each other until the giggles began to fade all together.

Dean looked down at her with an ever-charming smile and Lou’s heart lurched. It was unfair how handsome he was.

“Thank you, Dean,” she said softly.

“For what?” He paused his movements and cocked his head to one side.

She just shrugged. “For this.”

Dean grinned broadly. “Any time.” He waited a moment before adding, “How’s that rib?”

Lou looked up in surprise. “What?”

He gestured with a nod to her chest, and she felt her cheeks heat up as he explained, “You’ve been sitting funny all night. You break ‘em or just bruise a few?”

She tightened her jaw and looked away. She swallowed hard before she could manage an answer, “Fractured two of them I think.”

He nodded slowly. “I hate that. It hurts like a bitch for months.”

“That’s probably because you don’t let it heal before you jump back on the wagon,” she scolded lightly.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah well, what can I say. I’m not known for my patience.”

She laughed again. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

Silence settled between them again before Dean offered, “You could always call us for back up you know.”

She chewed the inside of her lip as she considered this, and in the end she just decided to nod in reply.

“Just letting you know, no pressure,” he clarified.

“Thanks,” she said clumsily.

They continued to sway around the kitchen slowly and Lou found her eyes growing heavy as the song came to an end.

Her lips tipped into a sleepy smile and she pulled away from him, realizing all too quickly how intimate the moment had become.

“I’m um. I’m gonna hit the hay.” She gestured with her thumb over one shoulder.

“Probably a good idea,” he answered. Lou started to leave but Dean hooked her elbow and pulled her back to face him. “Hey uh…”

She looked up expectantly but he screwed his mouth shut. He tightened his grip briefly then his fingers loosened, and he let go of her all together. “Thanks for letting us crash here.”

She just smiled at him. “Anytime, Dean.”

He smiled back and she escaped the kitchen with her heart still intact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just letting y'all know the previous chapter has been edited for content.
> 
> Also! Doodles! They aren't much but they're how I imagine Lou and I hope you guys enjoy them. Thanks to everyone for reading!
> 
> Be sure to check out the sweet little one shot of Lou and Dean with the 57 Chevy Bel Air~


	6. Tribbles

Phone calls with Lou were quickly becoming Dean’s favorite part of the day. She called all the time, so often that Dean began to expect them and a day or two without hearing her voice made him antsy. Some days she would call while on the way home from the bakery, and he would get to hear her sleepy smiles while she drove. Other days she would call when she sat down for tea in the afternoon or while she cooked dinner. It was so easy to picture her in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables or standing over a bubbling pot with the phone wedged between her shoulder and her cheek.

But his favorite calls were in the evenings before she went to bed. Those calls lasted the longest, with Lou curled up on the couch and the tv playing softly in the background. Some nights they would watch something in tandem, and if she didn’t have to work the next day they would talk into the early hours of the morning until Lou dozed off. Not all the calls lasted for that long but whatever the length, it was worth it.

Be it for five minutes or several hours, hearing Lou’s voice was like magic and the stress of the day would dissipate in an instant.

Just seeing her name flash across his phone made his stomach flip in anticipation. He’d even customized her ring tone. He’d considered using Dancing Queen, but at the risk of Sam giving him shit, he chose Pour Some Sugar On Me, a song that without fail made the image of Lou jump to his mind. Lou with her stupid yellow scrunchie, roughed up jeans, and infectious laugh.

He sighed heavily and thought about how he could really use one of those calls now. The day had been a total bust in their investigation, and Sam was out trying to come at it from another angle, or so he said. All together Dean was in a sour mood, scouring over the same books for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

As though on que, the familiar Def Leppard song echoed through the grungy motel room, and he jumped to his feet in an effort to get to his phone a second faster.

A bit short of breath, Dean answered the call with an unavoidable smile, “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

“The Trouble with Tribbles is on channel 38,” Lou exclaimed immediately.

“What? That’s one of the best episodes!” Dean abandoned his work completely and headed for his bed and the comfort of the tv.

“Which is why I called,” Lou said with a tone of annoyance. “Turn your TV on, dude.”

Dean riffled for the remote in the bedside table drawer. “I’m moving woman.”

“Move faster,” she whined back.

His imagination quickly got the better of him and he groaned suggestively, “God, I love it when you beg.”

He couldn’t always get a rise out of her, but this time he hit right on the mark. He could feel Lou blush through her tone of voice, and he liked imagining her pink cheeks as she answered, “Fuck off, Dean.”

“Man, I’ve even gotcha cussing, you must be hard up, Princess,” he teased mercilessly. “It was my pickup line, wasn’t it?”

Lou choked on a laugh, and Dean settled into a comfortable spot on the motel bed as he turned on the TV. Once he found the right channel, he grabbed a few extra pillows and stacked them up behind him.

“You know, the pickup line helped,” she admitted with a grin.

The show’s opening monologue started and the two of them both followed along from memory and then exploded into laughter.

“This episode’s the best. Did you see that DS9 did a time travel episode about tribbles?” she asked.

To his surprise Lou was an even bigger Star Trek nerd than him. She had an encyclopedic knowledge of the episodes and it just made him like her all the more.

“What? Was is good?” Dean crossed his legs and leaned back, finding the perfect spot in his pile of pillows.

“I mean, I liked it. O’Brian and Kirk actually interacted, and they did a pretty good job of splicing it together in my opinion. Dax gets all hot for Kirk which is pretty funny.” She had a sudden thought and continued in a rush, “Oh! And when the Klingons look weird, they all like, look to Worf for an explanation, and he’s just like, ‘we don’t talk about it.’ All gruff and Klingon like.”

She laughed again.

“That’s beautiful,” And he wasn't entirely sure whether he was talking about the show or the way she laughed.

“I thought so…” she replied with a nonchalant attitude and Dean could almost see her shrugging one shoulder in that sort of self-important way she always did. Kind of like Miss Piggy but cuter. There was a short silence between them before Lou politely asked, “Sammy doesn’t mind you hijacking the tv?”

“He’s out.” Dean was thankful to be alone with her, even if it was just over the phone.

Sam was always giving him guff about Lou. When Pour Some Sugar On Me started drifting from Dean’s phone, Sam would instantly tense and shoot the phone a nasty look. It was actually getting a little ridiculous, and he wasn’t sure how to fix it. He couldn’t figure out why Sam didn’t like her, and if he was honest, he didn’t like the way Sam was so suspicious of her all the time.

“Out where?” Lou was blissfully unaware that there was anything wrong and he envied her that.

“I don’t know, one of them internet cafes or something,” he said dryly. Sam had been ‘out’ a lot since his deal, and it agitated Dean to no end. When it came down to it, he knew his brother was most likely with Ruby. A sudden bloom of anger made his jaw tighten. What right did Sam have to be such a dick about Lou when his new BFF was a fucking Demon?

“What a nerd,” Lou scoffed playfully.

“I know, right?” Dean agreed, trying to shake off the thought of Sam and Ruby.

Lou laughed. “I mean, not like us. We’re super cool, just chilling and watching stuffed animals take over the Enterprise.”

“Hey! Star Trek is totally cool,” he said defensively.

Lou just kept laughing, and Dean loved the sound of it. It shook free the nagging thoughts of Demons and everyday troubles, and he slipped into the evening without a care in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another One Shot has been added to the Honey series! Be sure to go check it out for a little insight into Lou as a teenager;)  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960503
> 
> As always thank you for taking the time to read and I am eternally grateful to those of you who have left kudos and comments! Thank you so much for all the support!!


	7. Scars and Coffee Cups

The Impala hit a small bump in the road and Sammy rolled his head over to one side, only half-awake.

“You up, sleepy head?” Dean asked.

Sam grunted but after a minute he sat up a little more, his eyes still heavy with sleep. “How long have I been out?”

“A few hours?” Dean guessed.

Sam sat up straight. “Hours? Where are we headed? You get wind of a case or something?”

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. “No, I uh, I thought we could take a few days off to see Lou.”

Sam's brow instantly dropped in frustration and he pursed his lips. “Seriously? You don’t feel like there’s something else we could be doing?” his brother asked suggestively. “Some other problem we could look into? You know, like yours?”

“I’m not going over this again. I don’t have a problem, Sammy,” Dean said firmly. “We don’t have a case, it beats motel living, and I’m driving. So can it.”

“Whatever,” Sammy scoffed. “At least call it what it is, you just want to see your new girlfriend.”

Dean gripped the steering wheel as he tried to make light of Sam’s accusation. “Come on man, it’s not like that.” In his experience, Winchesters and girlfriends never mixed well and he worried that even the suggestion would give Lou bad luck.

“Whatever, how much further?” his brother grumbled.

Dean searched the road ahead for a mile marker. “Maybe an hour.”

“Fine, wake me up when we get there.” Sam hunkered back down again and crossed his arms over his chest, hoping to go back to sleep.

Dean grinned, content knowing his brother had given in, even if he was being an ass about it. “Will do, Sammy.”

* * *

Dean put his code in the alarm panel and locked the door behind them. It was nearly pitch-black inside the Victorian farmhouse, the only light being the dull glow of appliances from the kitchen doorway.

“Did you tell her we were coming?” Sammy’s voice was hushed, the darkness making the old house feel cavernous and creepy.

“Ehhh…” Dean shrugged. “I just told her we would if we got the chance.”

Sammy glared at him. “Seriously? We’re just showing up?”

“She gave us a key and a code,” Dean said defensively.

“Not so we could scare the shit out of her in the middle of the night!” Sam snapped back.

Before Dean could respond, the click of a shotgun sounded at the top of the stairs, causing both brothers to tense and instinctively reach for their weapons.

Sammy’s glare was lethal, and Dean actively ignored him.

“Lou?” Dean called out nervously.

“Mother fucker, Dean?” Lou’s voice rang out in the darkness.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” he drawled with mischievous grin.

There was a shuffle in the dark and light flooded the second floor. Lou still tentatively held the shotgun up as she edged back to the top of the grand staircase. Recognition rippled over her, and she slumped to the floor in relief with the shotgun next to her. She rubbed her face in both annoyance and relief.

“Sorry, Lou, I didn’t realize Dean didn’t warn you,” Sam spoke through gritted teeth, and Dean laughed anxiously.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise.” Dean shrugged and added, “I forgot you shouldn’t surprise hunters.”

Lou smiled weakly. “No, it’s good surprise. I’m happy you’re here.”

It was at that moment that Dean noticed her bare legs tangled up under her. They looked pale and soft and Dean had never been more grateful to see a pair of legs. She was wearing nothing but an over-sized Metallica t-shirt and as she stood back up, he caught half a glimpse of white underwear before forcing himself to look away.

Lou didn’t seem phased by her state of dress as she headed down the stairs. She hugged Sammy first and then Dean.

Dean sank into her embrace and tightened his arms around her. Her messy curls were down, brushing the edges of her shoulders, and he wished he could bury his face there in the nape of her neck and run his fingers through her hair. She smelled like honey and cream, and he was reluctant to let her go.

He did though, he loosened his hold and smiled down at her.

She smiled back like ray of sunshine and Dean could’ve sworn he felt an unfamiliar butterfly take flight in his stomach.

“Same rooms alright?” she asked stepping away from Dean.

Sammy nodded with an odd expression on his face. “Yeah, thanks, Lou.”

“Any time Sammy, I mean it.” Lou’s smile was like a million-watt bulb before suddenly falling. “Um, give me a minute to get dressed, I’ll be right back. Just make yourselves at home.”

Lou became more nervous than he’d ever seen her and rushed up the staircase, scooping up the shotgun as she went.

He shrugged it off as he being modest, and dropped his bag by the door, smiling up at Sam. “See, I told ya it was fine.”

Sammy’s eyes lingered on the steps. “Did you see those scars?”

“What?” Dean’s smile dropped like a rock.

Sam turned toward him and lowered his voice. “Her thighs were covered in scars.”

Dean tried to think back, but he knew he hadn’t noticed. He’d been trying not let his eyes linger and for some reason it agitated him to think Sammy had inspected them so carefully.

“Seriously?” Sammy’s voice was exasperated. “They started right above her knees front and back. There’s no way she could've done that herself.”

That thought made Dean angrier still, and it was a struggle to keep his voice down as he replied, “What the hell would make you think she'd do that to herself?”

“I’m not saying she did! It was just my first thought because there were so many.” Sammy’s eyes snapped up to the staircase and then back to Dean. “Besides like I said, they were all up the back too, something else made those.”

Dean kept his eyes on the staircase waiting for her to reappear as he stepped closer to Sam and talked just under his breath, “Are you sure it wasn’t a funky tattoo or something?”

“No fucking way,” Sam scoffed. “It was definitely scars, bad ones too.”

“Well, she was a hunter. We’ve all got scars.” Dean tried to shrug but his shoulders felt heavy. He was cursing himself for not being more observant, the one time he didn’t openly stare at a girl and it was this fucking important.

“Not those kinds of scars,” Sam warned.

“Ok Sammy, I get it. What the hell do you want to do about it?” Dean hissed.

The conversation was cut short by her voice carrying over the quiet house. “You boys hungry? I’ve got plenty of food I can whip up.” He could hear her ambling down the steps before he could see her.

All she’d done was put on a pair of stretch capris and placed her hair up in her usual scrunchie.

He smiled weakly. “I’m starved. How about you Sammy?”

Sam snorted at Dean’s fake smile. “Nah, I think I’ll just take a shower and get a few more hours of shut eye.”

This time Dean snorted, still trying to play off normal. “Seriously? You already slept a bunch today.”

“Yeah, after, like, two weeks of no sleep. So, if we’re taking a few days off, I’m gonna spend them banking extra hours of shut eye,” Sam tossed his bag over his shoulder for emphasis.

“Lame.” Dean turned away from him and started walking to the kitchen.

Lou laughed and followed him, talking over her shoulder to Sam, “You’re ok to use the towels hanging up. I just put them out today.”

Sammy thanked her and hesitated for just a moment before heading up the stairs. Dean glanced back, making uncomfortable eye contact with his brother, before willfully pushing their conversation out of his mind.

“You got any pie?” Dean asked.

Lou rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ve got pie.”

Dean grinned. “I’ll take some pie.”

Lou breathed a laugh as she flipped on the lights.

Lou had told them when they first stayed that the kitchen was her favorite room in the house, and he could see why. It was a cozy room despite the massive size. The vintage cabinets were painted a bright white, save for a few key pieces that remained a deep chestnut, including a large island in the middle. The white countertops glistened, leading into a large farmhouse sink. There was a wall of brick to one side, that had been a fireplace, and was now refitted with a high-end oven and stove top, keeping the traditional feel but with modern equipment. There was even a small breakfast table next to the window with the same chestnut finish as the cabinets.

All and all it had a very homey feel and after years on the road Dean could see the appeal of kitchen like this. It always made him think of the house in Lawrence and sitting at the kitchen table with his mother.

“Coffee?” she asked as she opened the fridge.

The question tore him free of his own thoughts and he grinned. “Of course.”

“Better get making it then,” she said with her nose turned up. She took some pie from the fridge, set it on the counter, and let loose a sneaking smile when her eyes met his.

“Geesh, some host you are,” he sneered, smiling back all the same. He did as he was told though, getting the coffee ready while she prepped the pie.

“I’m gonna pop it in the toaster oven for a sec, you want ice cream too?” She placed two slices on a little tray and licked the remnants from her fingertips.

“Pie is always better with ice cream,” he said pulling down two cups while the coffee pot sputtered to life.

“They yellow cup for me, please,” she commented.

Dean paused, glancing down and the cups and opening the cabinet again. He held out the cup in question and Lou nodded approval before going about her own job.

She moved silently, her bare feet padding across the kitchen tile as she went. He didn’t often get to see women in a relaxed state. When he was working he’d see women mourning or in recovery, but he never got to see a girl just being at home in a good way. It was one of the things he liked about Lou, seeing her in her pjs and bare feet in the middle of the night. She looked comfortable and happy, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He thought about the way they danced together the last time he was here and the way she smelled. He wondered idly if he could get her in his arms again, just for a moment.

She caught him staring and grinned.

“See something you like?” She flirted.

Dean was quick to cover. “Oh yeah, bare feet and scrunchies totally get me,” he oozed sarcastically.

She gave a mock look of indignation. “How dare you, my scrunchie is so hot.”

“Yeah, 30 years ago,” he teased. “What are you, an 80s movie star?”

“I’ll have you know scrunchies are better for your hair, they pull less and they’re less likely to give you tension headaches,” she pointed out knowledgably. “Plus, Molly Ringwald is and always will be hot. The 80s are underappreciated.”

Dean laughed. “Well shit, I wasn’t trying to put down the almighty Molly.”

“It kinda sounded like you were,” she mused in disappointment.

“Never,” he swore. “Cross my heat and hope to die.”

She was appeased with this promise and there was a moment of quiet between them. His eyes wandered down to her legs and he frowned, suddenly remembering there were more important things to be thinking about then how good she smelled. Sam’s words echoed in his mind and tried to think if he’d ever seen her wear shorts or skirt but came up blank. He’d seen her in a dress once, but it was a pretty modest length.

His mind continued to spin and before Dean could think of how to ask; ‘Hey, what’s up with those cray cray scars on your legs?’ Lou spoke up.

“You wanna watch that DS9 Tribble episode I told you about?” she asked.

“Um, yes?” Dean responded without thinking, officially missing out on his moment to ask.

She smiled at him and he smiled back easy enough. In some ways, he didn’t mind not asking. He hated the idea of being serious with her right now, and he hated even more the thought that something, or someone, left her legs covered in scars.

With the coffee and pie ready, she ushered them into the living room and pointed to the vintage metal tv trays. He examined the old timey green trays with pink roses painted across the middle as he set them up. Most of the furniture in the house had that old lady quality to it.

“How come you never redecorated?” he asked as they settled into the couch.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “What would you know about redecorating?”

“I’ve seen the DIY Channel once or twice. Design on a Dime and stuff.” Dean scooted his tray closer to him and inhaled the smell of coffee and pie lovingly.

“Oh, so you’re an expert?” she said in faux surprise.

Dean gave her his best shit eating grin. “Of course,” he lolled.

Lou rolled her eyes overtly as she replied, “Well, for one it’s expensive and time consuming. I run a business. For two…” She laid a surprisingly reverent hand on a floral pillow with a wispy sort of smile. “I kinda like all this stuff. It makes me think of Ms. Roe.”

She lingered a moment, remembering something most likely, before leaning over to pluck the remote from the coffee table. “I think I left the right disk in. I pulled it out after we talked about it the other day.”

“How’d you know I’d come visit?” he asked, wondering why he was always the one asking questions.

She smiled at him, dimples and all, and he thought he might melt into the pink fringe couch.

“Well, I was just sorta hoping,” she answered coyly.

* * *

Lou dozed off halfway through the episode after the Tribbles and she’d done so with her legs casually draped over Dean’s lap.

He was stone still and looked over at her after every micro shift in a panic, but she stayed fast asleep. He was pretty sure that she’d been up since four AM so she must've been dead tired. Dean couldn’t remember what time he’d gotten up that morning, but his mind was stuck on repeat, thinking about the scars Sammy mentioned, and sleep was the farthest thing from his mind.

His one hand had been comfortably sitting on her lower leg and curiosity got the better of him. He ever so casually lifted it to her knee and paused so see if she noticed.

Her breathing stayed the same.

He lifted it a little higher and ran his fingers over the stretchy fabric of the yoga pants. Surely the scars weren’t bad enough to feel through the fabr-

He froze when he found exactly what he hoped not to; the raised tissue of a gnarly scar ran straight across just above her knee. She squirmed, and he pulled his hand back like she was hot plate.

Fuck. His mind ran a million miles an hour.

Sammy said they were all over, right? What in the holy hell left scars that bad?

Lou shifted again and stretched out her whole body. Her back arced up, her legs went taunt across his lap, and her toes curled with the effort. He almost didn’t have the brain space to sexualize it. Almost.

“Shit, sorry… I fell asleep,” she murmured with a long yawn. “Sorry to cut our party short, but I gotta go to bed.”

Dean did his best to smile. “No problem. I’ll clean this stuff up.”

Lou looked at him, pleasantly surprised. “Thanks.”

Dean nodded and there was a brief silence he wasn’t fond of. “See you in the morning?” he offered.

She gave him a sleepy smile and echoed the sentiment, “See you in the morning.”

Dean watched her go, and as soon as he was sure she was out of ear shot, he whipped out his phone to call Bobby.

Bobby sounded like shit, his voice cracked and he cleared his throat to try again, “’Yello?”

Dean got right to the point and dropped the million-dollar question, “Why are Lou’s legs covered in scars?”

The line went dead quiet. It was a long silence, the kind that smothered you the longer it went on.

“Bobby- ” Dean started, wondering if the line had dropped.

“No Dean,” Bobby said firmly. “I’m not telling ya shit. If that poor girl wants to tell ya, she will.”

“Seriously?” Dean replied in disbelief.

“Seriously,” Bobby repeated. He didn’t sound tired anymore, at least not the sleepy kind of tired. “She’s seen some shit, just the same as us.”

Dean struggled for a moment and admitted, “I didn’t actually see them, Sammy did.”

“Well, ya tell Sammy to shut his trap,” Bobby warned.

Dean nodded. “Alright.” There was another moment of silence and he couldn’t help but press the issue. “Sam said they looked bad.”

There was a shuffling sound over the phone. “Yeah, it ain’t good that’s for damn sure. I never seen ‘em, but I knew they were there.”

“Is that why she doesn’t hunt full time?” Dean asked.

Bobby seemed to give this a little bit of thought. “I’d say it definitely contributed.”

Dean realized he wasn’t gonna get much more than that and tried another line of questioning. “How come you never talked about her or her Dad?”

“Well, her Dad wasn’t the friendliest of fellas and honestly…” Bobby’s voice was thick with exhaustion. “I like to keep Lou at an arm’s length from the business. She was young when her Dad died, and I was worried she’d run off huntin' on her own.” Dean heard the familiar sound of a bottle cap hitting the floor over the speaker.

“Why didn’t she?” he pressed.

“Boy,” Bobby’s tone was threatening. “When in the hell did ya get so damned nosey?”

Dean shrugged and reclined back into the couch. “I’m an investigator,” he said defensively.

“Of monsters, not people,” Bobby snapped. Silence ate at the line again before Bobby gave a heavy sigh. “I think Ms. Roe appealed to her sympathy, acting like she needed a protector, and Lou was young enough to fall for it. Now that’s enough questions, it’s the middle of the god damned night. I’m going back to sleep.”

Bobby hung up without another word, and Dean sat with his phone in his lap, staring blankly at the TV.

What did it matter where she got the scars? Why was he being so nosey? Did she get whatever monster did it? His mind spun with questions and possible answers.

Maybe Sammy was right. Maybe she was hiding from something, some monster that carved her up like a Sunday ham.

Dean pushed himself to his feet, his imagination reeling. He pictured some monster hovering over Lou with the glittering edge of a blade poised over her. His life as a hunter made the picture all the more vivid, and he could see the rotting walls of an abandoned building while Lou struggled against her restraints.

He clenched his jaw, forcing the thought out of his head.

He picked up the empty plates and coffee cups and took a moment to inspect the cup she’d requested. It was more modern than most of the things in the house. The smooth porcelain was wide like a bowl and sunshine yellow. He turned it in his hand, thinking about the way she hugged it between both palms when she drank from it. He’d seen her use it before, but he’d never paid much mind before now. Perhaps it was a gift from Ms. Roe?

He smiled to himself as he washed the dishes and gently laid them out to dry. Dean stared at the cup a moment longer and then returned to the couch with a grimace.

It was no use. He couldn’t get the thought of her scars out of his mind.


	8. Pie Hell and Mexican Food

Sam rudely smacked Dean awake with newspaper, and he nearly fell off the couch in response. Realizing what happened, he glared at Sam and rubbed a kink in his shoulder from sleeping in an odd position.

He glanced up at a clock on the mantle. It was almost nine in the morning and he grimaced. He was admittedly disappointed that he didn’t get to go to work with Lou that morning. Then again, she probably let him sleep since they were up so late.

Sam casually sat down opposite Dean with a steaming cup coffee and his newspaper.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Sam asked, as though he hadn’t just whacked Dean upside the head.

Dean glowered. “I told you, it’s not like that.”

Sam shrugged and took a leisurely sip of his coffee.

Dean snickered. “Well, aren’t you making yourself comfortable. Downstairs in your pajama pants with your coffee and your newspaper.”

Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t answer.

Dean decided teasing him wasn’t as much fun without his own cup of coffee and ventured off to find some. To his relief he discovered a mostly full pot in the kitchen and offhandedly noticed that Lou’s yellow cup hadn’t been retrieved from the drying rack.

He savored one long sip before wondering back to the couch, coffee in hand. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the house or the brand that she bought but coffee at Lou’s was heaven sent. Dean glanced out the window as he went.

“Where's Lou?” he asked.

Sammy screwed his face up in annoyance. “I just asked you that like ten seconds ago.”

Dean scratched the back of his neck and yawned. “Yeah, but I thought you were just being an ass. Is she not home yet?”

Sam shook his head and Dean plopped back down on the couch with a frown before remembering he had something important to discuss with Sammy.

“I talked to Bobby last night,” Dean said. Sam glanced up from the rim of his coffee mug and Dean continued, “I asked him about Lou’s scars, and he said to drop it.”

Sam set the newspaper down on his lap. “Seriously? Did he say anything else?”

Dean took a long drink from his cup, thinking about Bobby’s tone of voice and the way Lou’s scar felt under his fingertips.

“He said he hadn’t seen ‘em but he knew about them. I asked if that was why she didn’t hunt, and he said it ‘contributed.’ He was pretty ambiguous about everything I asked, except for the fact that I shouldn’t be asking.” Dean thumbed his coffee cup, lost in thought.

“We could ask her,” Sam offered after a moment.

Dean’s expression hardened. “How about we just let her tell us in her own time?”

“Come one Dean,” Sammy started.

“No, Sammy, I mean it,” Dean responded sternly. “You don’t just ask somebody about something like that.”

Sam grimaced and picked his newspaper back up. A few minutes ticked by before he spoke again, “I still think she’s hiding from something.”

The thought made Dean’s stomach flip. “We’ve all got our demons Sam. She’ll tell us if she wants to.”

* * *

The hours ticked by and there was no word from Lou. Dean was starting to get antsy about it when early evening came around, but Lou’s truck finally rolled in before he was forced to take any kind of action.

She came inside with a single grocery bag and when Dean said hello, she grunted in response.

She walked right past him to the kitchen, and Dean glanced at Sammy in confusion. Sam barely had time to shrug before Lou started yelling in the other room.

Dean was up in a flash and upon entered the kitchen, he was treated with the comical sight of Lou gingerly holding a can of soda at arms-length as it fizzed dramatically.

“God, fucking…” She was shaking soda from her other hand and there was a string of curses a mile-long spilling from her mouth.

He noted the grocery bag on the counter, which looked an awful lot like an uneaten lunch and ventured as gentle a question as he could come up with, “You alright there Lou?”

She looked up at him, her brow dipping in annoyance at such an impertinent question.

She slammed the soda down on the counter. “We’re going out.”

Dean blinked, looking at the mess of soda on the counter and the floor. “Ok.”

She wiped her hands on her jeans as she headed back to the front door and Dean followed.

“You’re driving,” she snapped.

Dean nodded. “Yup.”

“You comin’, Sam?” she asked sharply.

Sam shook his head with what looked like fear in his eyes, and Lou didn’t wait to double check.

She was out the door and in the Impala in seconds.

“There’s a Mexican place on Seventh,” she grumbled, still rubbing her hands on the ripped-up jeans.

She looked a mess today, but a cute mess. She had on a worn black t-shirt that said ‘good girl GONE RAD’ with a rainbow across the front and her hair was half falling out of her scrunchie. Today the scrunchie was red.

Aside from the wet soda marks on her jeans there also appeared to be flour in her hair, coating a few select curls in powdery white.

Dean’s grip tightened on the wheel. “So… Long day in the world of pie?”

Lou just sighed, falling limply back against the seat. “Yeah. We did an event for the local high school and there was- ” She held her hands out for emphasis. “So many pies. Plus, it’s Sunday, which is our busiest day, so it was kind of like pie hell.”

Dean tried not to laugh.

“Oh my god, shut up. I know it sounds stupid, but it was a lot of work.” She hit him on the arm and he finally burst into laughter. “You are such an ass,” she accused him even as she started to laugh along with him.

Dean loved her laugh. It was always way too loud, and she would throw her head back and then curl into herself to hold her stomach. It was genuine and ridiculously cute.

“It sounds stupid when you compare it to a bad day hunting, but I swear I just couldn’t get anything right today. I ruined a batch of crust which put us way behind, and I cut myself prepping apples which is so lame.” She held up a bandaged finger for him to inspect.

The bandage was neon pink and something about it just made him want to laugh even harder.

“So lame,” he echoed with a grin.

She groaned and leaned her head back. “It was busy and hot, and people kept asking me questions like I was in charge or something.”

“Weird,” he said in mock awe.

“I know, right?” she complained.

“You should ask for a raise,” he said with as much seriousness as he could muster.

She laughed again. “I should.” He smiled at her and she sighed. “We got everything done though, and it was for a good cause. So, it wasn’t all bad. I’m sorry I bailed on you the whole day.”

Dean shrugged. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

She smiled and looked over at him. “Did you have a good day off?”

“Yup, not a monster in sight,” he said flashing her his signature lopsided grin.

She scoffed. “I should hope not. I run a tight ship you know.”

“Ay Captain, that you do,” he retorted with a curt nod.

She snorted a laugh and pointed as they approached Seventh street. “That’s it, there.”

Lou was nearly out of the car before he got in park and he did his best to keep up. The restaurant came alive when she waltzed through the door.

“Oi, Lou! Our favorite customer!” boomed the voice of voluptuous Latina woman. “Hey mama, where you been?” The woman was smothering Lou with a hug and Lou was laughing.

While mature, the woman was stunning with smooth terracotta skin and dark hair loosely piled on her head. Her exposed neck made an elegant trail down the plunging neckline of her dress which called attention to every curve of her figure.

Thinking of Maze, Dean wondered idly if Lou just surrounded herself with pretty women when he wasn’t around.

“Oi, mama, you bringin’ your lover ‘round dressed like this?” the woman scolded her while motioning to Lou’s state of dress provocatively.

Lou reeled back. “Are you kidding me, jeans and a t shirt is totally his thing! You tryin’ to tell me I don’t look hot today?”

The woman rolled her eyes dramatically with one hip jutted out. “I’m telling you, you look a hot mess.”

Lou snapped her fingers in disappointment. “Damn.” She looked over her shoulder at Dean. “You gonna leave me, baby?”

His heart skipped a beat. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The woman laughed just as loudly as Lou. “Oh, yeah. Just show off, would ya. Take your lover over there to your table.”

Lou flashed her a million-watt smile and a thank you before leading Dean to what appeared to be her regular table. The restaurant looked much like every other Mexican place across the country, with brightly colored walls and banners hanging from the ceiling. There were several large folk art paintings and unusual sculptures that drew his eye.

Someone from another table waved at Lou and she waved back politely.

“Do you know everyone in around here?” he asked as they sat down.

Lou shrugged. “I mean, everyone is a stretch, but it’s a small town. The one that hugged me is Martirio Metz, everyone calls her Marty.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Lou and Marty? What you guys have an old-guy-name club up here or somethin’?”

Lou gave him a mischievous grin. “Yup, we play poker on Wednesdays.”

Dean shook his head. “Of course you do. And how do you know ‘Marty’ Metz.”

Lou blushed a little and averted her gaze. “Her son Danny had a thing for me back in high school.”

“You are way underselling that, mama,” Marty corrected as she set down chips, a bowl of salsa, and two waters. “That boy was ready to die for you.”

Lou cringed. “Please, don’t remind me. It’s been a long day and the last thing I need is to relive high school.”

Marty didn’t pay her any mind, she pushed into the booth next to Lou and batted her eye lashes at Dean. “Your fault for bringing this fine boy in here on a Sunday night. Girl it’s a holy day.” Marty crossed herself in true catholic fashion and Lou rolled her eyes. “What’s your name, lover boy?” Marty leaned over the table, flaunting a bountiful amount of cleavage in the process.

Dean smiled, not opposed to the attention or the view. “Dean.”

“Dean, oh, that’s a strong name,” Marty cooed flirtatiously. “Well, Dean, this girl here wouldn’t give my Danny the time of day, but then one night she came in here with Ms. Roe.” Marty placed a dramatic hand on her heart and shook her head. “Danny mooned over her like the poor lovesick child he was, and I been trying to win her over with my cookin’ ever since.”

“Marty,” Lou scolded. “Danny is married now.”

“That don’t mean you ain’t got a chance,” she said shushing Lou. “That girl my boy married, she’s a dumber than a bucket of rocks.”

“Marty,” Lou warned.

The woman shrugged. “Yeah, yeah. She’s sweet. They love each other.”

“They love each other very much,” Lou reiterated. “They’re happy, which is more than you can say for most couples.”

Marty was far from impressed with this and waved a dismissive hand. “I know, I know…” With that apathetic response Marty abandoned the subject entirely and her eyes trained on Dean in a predatory manner. “So, lover boy, you takin’ this sweet child away from us?”

This time Lou really did blush, responding before Dean could even open his mouth. “Come on, we’re just here to eat.”

Marty smiled and pulled Lou into a half hug. “And eat you will, you have that Pie Drive today?”

Lou nodded. “Yes, it was miserable,” she exaggerated woefully.

“Poor girl.” Marty kissed the side of Lou’s forehead and smiled. “I’ll treat cha good then.” And with that Marty went on her way, winking at Dean as she left.

Dean was beginning to understand Lou a lot better. Between Marty and Maze he was surprised she wasn’t even more boisterous.

Lou smiled nervously. “Sorry. She’s a bit much.”

Dean cracked a grin in return. “I don’t mind, it’s kind of fun to hear more about you as a teenager.”

Lou scoffed. “Yeah, well. It wasn’t all that interesting I can assure you.”

Dean just smiled, digging into the chips and noticing a distinct lack of menus. “Do we get to order?”

“Not with Marty here, she’ll bring what she wants to and not much else.” Lou gave a casual shrug. “You might be able to ask for another drink. She’s like that, but it’ll be the best Mexican you’ve ever had, hands down.”

Dean nodded and then, trying to seem casual, he asked, “Shouldn’t we correct her?”

Lou covered her mouth and spoke with a mouth full of chip. “About what?”

Dean shrugged. “Us… Being an item?”

Lou considered this for a moment, looking over at the kitchen door as though worried Marty would be there eavesdropping. “It would probably be easier if we didn’t. Though we could say you’re Bobby’s kid and that would cover a multitude of sins.”

“Boy, he’s popular in this town, huh?” Dean asked again thinking of Maze.

Lou chuckled to herself. “Yeah, real lady killer.”

She was quiet for a second, picking through the chips before she gave him a smug look, “Why, you embarrassed?”

He grinned from ear to ear as he answered, “Well, you are kind of a hot mess.”

Lou burst into laughter and Dean laughed along with her, thinking to himself there wasn’t anything satisfying than making her laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is now up on FanFiction.net! So if that's your preferred method of viewing feel free to hop on over there. It might take me a few days to get it all up but I promise it's coming!  
> Also! I've been thinking about doing some more doodles so if you'd like to see more pictures of Lou (and maybe Dean) please drop a comment!  
> As always thanks for being taking the time to read!


	9. Demons and Scrunchies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter is short, but be sure to check out the doodles at the end;)

Dean had been planning a new line to use on Lou for days. He’d been playing it over in his head and thinking of exactly how he’d say it and the possible lead ups. He was determined to use it when she called him next. The line was nothing less than flawless, and it was sure to get Lou all sorts of frazzled, which was hard to do. He had to catch her off guard or say something absurdly naughty and this was the latter.

The moment his phone began to sing ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me,” a devilish grin split across his lips and curled up mischievously.

“Hey Princess,” he said smoothly.

He could feel her smile even over the distance in the phone line. “Hey, I’ve only got a hot minute, I just wanted to know what case you were on.”

Dean frowned, thinking his plans to tease her might have been dashed. “We’re in Illinois working a demon case.”

“Ok, keep me updated, will you?” Lou asked seriously. Her tone was different than usual. It was clipped and sharp.

“Sure,” Dean agreed on instinct but then felt uneasy. “Why? What’s up?”

Lou didn’t answer right away, there was a rustle of clothing and he heard the door to her truck open and slam shut behind her. “I got called out on a case.”

Dean tensed. “What kind of case?”

Despite knowing Lou was competent, it still made him anxious to think of her in the field alone, with no back up. Maybe they could wrap their case up quick and head her way? Maybe he could call Bobby? His mind spun with options. Anything to keep Lou safe.

“Demonic,” she responded as though the answer were obvious.

Dean felt his mouth go dry. “Why?”

Perfect, Lou wasn’t just on her own with any old monster, she was on her own with a demon. Didn’t that sound peachy. Dean was instantly thinking about some of the more dangerous demons he’d met over the years and a shudder ran through him as he thought of Lou fighting one of them.

Lou was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t realize Bobby didn’t tell you. Demons are my specialty, that’s pretty much all I get called out for.”

Dean’s head felt like fifty-pound weight as he sorted this information into what he knew about Lou. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” the line was quiet. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, I just assumed you knew.”

Dean nodded into the phone. “Right.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “So, you deal with Demons a lot then?”

The question felt stupid, but he needed to know. His stomach churned as he waited for her answer. He imagined her sitting in her car, playing with the crocodile key chain the way she did. Her eyes distant as she carefully chose her words.

“Yeah, um, people call when they think they’ve got a demon, and if I agree with their conclusion, I’ll either give them some directions and pointers over the phone or fly out to assist them,” she explained. Her voice was stiff and uncomfortable. “This guy is old school; he feels weird about doing an exorcism so he called me. The Demon is already secured so I’m just flying out to do the actual exorcism part. I think he’s under the impression I’m bringing a priest,” she joked.

Dean nodded along with this explanation and felt a little better knowing at least someone would be there, but then he started wondering why she had called him in the first place. “Why’d you wanna know what case we were on?”

“If you were sniffing out the same case, I was just gonna let you and that fancy colt figure it out,” she quipped.

Dean laughed despite himself. “Wow, lazy much?”

“Efficient,” Lou corrected sagely.

Dean grinned, the conversation turning back to their typical jovial tone. “Hey Lou…?” He might just be able to pull off his intended joke after all.

“Hm?” she answered with a sexy hum.

“You said you only had a hot minute, right?” he asked innocently enough.

“Yeah?” Lou’s voice had a question to it now.

“How hot?” Dean kept his voice low.

Lou’s catch-up time was short. “Smoking,” she purred back.

He then dropped the one-liner he’d been hanging onto for days, “What color is your scrunchie today, baby?”

Lou caught on at the drop of the hat and answered in a sultry whisper, “I’m not wearing one.”

The call dropped with a decisive click, and Dean was left to contemplate the innuendo in silence. Whatever rise he’d hoped to get out of Lou, the tables had turned, and he decided that he should think pranks like that out more carefully in the future.

He thought for a moment more, picturing Lou’s supple figure and her curls loose and wild about her face. He took full advantage of the insulation and imagined Lou in a dress, without anything else underneath, and licked his lips.

He closed his phone slowly and changed his mind. Having the tables turned on him wasn’t so bad after all.

* * *

DOODLES!


	10. Orange Lamps, Ghostfacers, and Bruce Campbell

“I don’t know Dean,” Sammy said through the phone. “I haven’t found anything in that town that suggests there’s a hunt.”

Dean could still hear the ruffling of newspaper on the other end.

“I don’t really care. Lou asked me to come so I’m going.” Dean gripped the wheel in frustration. “Look, you and Bobby do your research, but I’m gonna do some hunting.”

“I’m just saying I don’t see a case there to hunt,” Sam reiterated.

“Well then you missed something, Sammy,” Dean snapped. “I know you don’t like Lou, but do you have to be such an ass about it?”

Sam gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m not trying to be an ass, Dean. I was just pointing out that it doesn’t look like there’s a case.”

“What, so she called me out here just to play hooky?” Dean accused.

“Whatever Dean, I was just telling you what I found,” Sam surrendered. “Just call me when you’re done.”

“Fine,” Dean snipped.

“Fine,” his brother repeated.

Dean snapped the phone shut and tossed it into the seat next to him. He wasn’t sure why Sammy was always such a tool about Lou, but he was getting tired of it.

He was already there anyway, what did Sammy expect him to do? Turn around because Sam didn’t see anything in the news?

Dean gritted his teeth in frustration. If he was being honest with himself, it was kind of a relief to be away from his brother for a few days. Lately things between them had been tense and Sammy was always sneaking around unsuccessfully. He knew his brother was trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal and he suspected Sam was also sneaking out to see Ruby.

But being around Lou was an entirely different story. Lou was fun and there was no deal looming over their conversations. Even if they had to hunt it would be better than nothing. Not to mention, he’d been feeling uneasy about Lou hunting on her own since he found out she exclusively worked on Demonic cases.

The sign for his exit came up and Dean straightened in his seat.

Lou asked him to come and that was enough either way.

He fished the scrap of paper from his pocket as he took the exit to double check the name of the motel. The Wanderlust- room two o’ one.

He followed the directions she provided and eventually pulled up to an old brick building right off of 2nd Street. He found the parking lot on the far side with a mural painted across the back of the building. Just as he thought he must have made a wrong turn; he got a better look at the entirety of the mural. It was a field of wildflowers and a hippie looking sun with the words ‘Wanderlust Resort & Spa’ sprawled across the painting.

So maybe not a motel.

He paused as he pulled his duffle from the trunk and looked back up at the mural and around the parking lot. The building was smack dab in the middle of downtown with trendy shops and people walking up and down the street.

Perhaps not the best time to get into the arsenal, he reasoned.

Dean patted the Impala goodbye and headed for room two o’ one.

The hotel smelled clean, like citrus and fresh cotton, and the staff accosted him with bright smiling faces the moment he stepped into the lobby. Dean explained nervously that he already had a room, and they reminded him to call the front desk if he needed anything.

With a quick nod he hurried away to the elevator and slumped with relief as the doors shut. Normally attention like that didn’t bother him, but he was feeling a little self-conscious about staying somewhere so nice. He wondered if Lou always frequented fancier hotels like this.

He knocked on the door and Lou swung it open with a breathtaking smile.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed, pulling the door open wider to let him inside.

“As requested,” he replied as she closed the door behind him.

He glanced around the room and it was just as elegant as the lobby. The beds were made with crisp white sheets with brightly colored throw pillows and cheerful paintings hanging over each headboard. The furniture was modern, but simple, and there were some unique features including a large, oddly shaped, orange glass lamp on the bedside table. The kitchenette was sleek with a mini stainless-steel microwave and fridge.

“This place is pretty swanky,” he commented.

She waved a hand dismissively and without warning wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled him into a hug. He dropped his bag at his side and returned the hug, feeling it slowly sweep away his troubles. Without Sammy here he didn’t see much reason to be embarrassed and he pulled her in tighter. Lou leaned into his touch and he held her there for a while, breathing in her scent and feeling the tension slip away.

She indulged him until he pulled back. He knew it was a little too long for a hug between friends, but Lou just smiled up at him.

He withdrew himself from her arms completely and cleared his throat.

“So, where’s the case?” he asked, trying to get his head back on straight.

Lou’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes darted away. “Right. The case.” She meandered over to the bed as she talked, “I have a small confession to make about that.”

Dean quirked on eyebrow. “A confession?”

Dean glanced around again, trying to focus on the two beds. Two separate beds. She definitely didn’t call him here for a booty call. That would be ridiculous, right? Right, he reassured himself.

“There is a case, but it’s…” she mulled over the words as she sat. “It’s not a typical case.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that this wasn’t an elaborate hook up plan.

He bent to pick his duffle off the floor and tossed it onto the opposite bed. “Ok, so? What is it?”

Lou folded her hands neatly in her lap and chewed on the inside of her lip. “Well you see… as a witness to the supernatural… I derive a perverse pleasure in watching civilians hunt for ghosts.”

Dean stared at her. “What?”

“I find it funny,” she admitted. “Ghost Adventures, Paranormal investigations, Long Island Medium, I can’t help myself. People running around with night vision cameras like idiots. They’re so desperate for proof and they just scare themselves shitless over nothing.”

Dean continued to stare at her in confusion. “Ok. So. What does that have to do with the case?”

Lou licked her lips and steepled her fingers together. “Well, I follow this group of indie ghost hunters online and they had a sweepstakes for someone to be able to go on a ghost hunt with them… and I won.”

Dean sat on the bed opposite her in disbelief. “You won a sweepstakes… to go on a fake ghost hunt?”

She covered her mouth to hide a smile and nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“And you called me because…?” he asked slowly.

“Because I get to bring a friend and I thought, perhaps…” She gestured to him. “That you might also get a kick out of playing pretend for the weekend.”

Dean rubbed his hand over his face. “Son of bitch, Sam was right. You called me out here to play hooky!”

She gasped and put a hand to her chest. “Ok, hooky is strong word. I called you to share in a joyful experience, and so that you could have a nice break.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to sugarcoat this, Princess,” he scolded. “You called me out here to play hooky from real hunting, only to take me fake hunting.”

She covered her mouth again to try and keep herself from laughing. “Ok, so maybe, but. It’s gonna be really fun. It’ll be like we’re in Blare Witch Project! I brought cameras and everything.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “Lou, we live the Blare Witch Project!”

“Yes, but this will be in infrared night vision!” she corrected him. “Come on, Dean. It’s gonna be fun. These guys are so bad at it, they’re gonna scream and I’m totally gonna play up the ‘damsel in distress’ and Dean, Dean. I haven’t even told you the best part.”

He rolled his eyes. “What’s the best part?”

“They think it’s a demonic haunting,” she practically squealed with excitement. “There’s this local legend that some girl was possessed there, which isn’t true she was schizophrenic, and that some priest did an exorcism, also not true he did a blessing and sent her to an asylum, and that the spirit of the demon still haunts the place, again not true they just have old plumbing and a rat problem.” She broke into a full laugh now. “I’m sorry I lied but I was worried Sammy would squash it and ruin all the fun.”

Dean shook his head, “You’re right. He would have.” He watched her as she wiped away tears from laughing. “You’re crazy.”

“Certifiable,” she agreed. “So, are you in?”

Dean stared at her, her cheeky grin and sparkling eyes making his heart summersault in his chest. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell her that he had been worried for her, and that he should go back to Bobby’s. But he didn’t want to go back to Bobby’s, he didn’t want to see Sam, and he wasn’t angry. He was relieved to know this wasn’t a case and that she wasn’t in danger. He was relieved to see her smiling and he wanted to indulge himself in whatever silliness she had planned.

His face tipped into a boyish grin. “What the hell, let’s go get us some demon ghost booty.”

* * *

“You’ve got to be kidding me, these bozos?” Dean groaned as they pulled up to the haunted house in question.

A grin split across her face. “You know these guys?”

Dean took a deep breath. “Yeah, they helped to create a tulpa with their damned website in Texas.”

Lou looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “No way! A tulpa?”

He leaned forward to look up at the house, and it certainly looked like the kind of place that would be haunted. The huge old house was falling apart, with peeling red paint on the door and broken windows. The gray siding was so old it was impossible to tell what color it started out as, leaving the entire house a wash of gray save the ominous red door. His eyes settled on two stone lions at the base of the porch steps. The lions stared blankly into the distance with their teeth bared in a forced snarl.

“Yeah, are you sure you checked the place out thoroughly?” he asked.

She nodded. “I did a very detailed check. The house is definitely creepy but harmless. No incidents have taken place on the property.”

Dean put the Impala in park and stared at the two idiots on the porch with their pile of equipment. “You really want to do this?”

Lou held up her camera in response. “Desperately.”

Dean shook his head. “Have I mentioned that you’re crazy?”

She tilted her head to one side playfully. “Crazy hot?”

Dean chuckled. “Crazy smokin’ hot.”

She cracked a smile with a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “Let’s go.”

Lou stepped from the car with a larger than life smile. She waved at the two ghost hunters, and they nervously waved back. As they walked forward Dean caught a glimpse of Lou fondly brushing her fingertips over the hood of the Impala, like she was telling Baby goodbye. The action made him smile and he tucked the memory away for later.

“Hey, guys, I was gonna introduce you to my friend here, but it seems like you guys already know each other!” Lou smiled, turning her camera to watch Dean come up the steps to the porch. “But for the sake of the camera. Ghostfacers, this is Dean. Dean, this is Ed and Harry. Dean’s an expert ghost hunter.”

Ed’s mouth dropped open and he pointed to Dean. “You’re that guy from Texas!!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “And you’re the dorks from Texas. How’d your big TV deal go?”

Ed and Harry both squirmed before Ed answered. “Well, you know we didn’t want to sell out to ‘the man’. We’re better off making our own decisions and going our own way.”

Dean smirked, knowing that Ed was lying. “Is that so?”

A blush began to creep into Ed’s face and Harry quickly came to his aid. “Yeah, they wanted to fake it and we’re here for the truth! We know ghosts are real.”

The sincerity in Harry’s voice made Dean soften a little. He knew no one believed these guys, and he’d been on that end of things. He had to admit that they had a stick-to-itiveness to them, and it was endearing… to a degree.

“Yeah, and you’re not gonna get in our way this time.” Ed pointed accusingly. “We’re getting proof.”

Dean held up his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m just along for the ride today.”

Ed cast an untrusting glare Dean’s way, but Harry was quick to intervene. “How do you guys know each other anyway?”

Lou casually looped her arm around Deans elbow and pulled him closer. “We met hunting ghosts in the Waverly Hill Sanatorium!”

Ed and Harry both brightened at this and began to chat with Lou at length about her experiences there and the history of the location. Lou happily indulged them with a ridiculous story, throwing Dean a playful wink when he quirked an eyebrow at her anecdote. The Ghostfacers ate it up as they headed inside and set up all their equipment.

At some point while they worked, Harry tapped on Ed’s shoulder and hastily whispered. “She seems like a serious hunter! We must really be onto something if both of them are here.”

Ed nodded, sneaking a glance at Lou before rushing on with the work.

Lou helped to set things up with a distinct spring in her step. She showed off her own equipment which consisted of a handheld camera and something called a spirit box.

“What’s that?” Dean asked, plucking the little round speaker from her hands.

“It’s a way to communicate with ghosts,” Lou began.

Ed grabbed the speaker from him roughly. “It’s a very delicate piece of machinery.”

Dean glared. “Is that so?”

Lou nudged Dean lightly with her elbow and raised her eyebrows in amusement.

“Won’t you explain it again, Ed?” she cooed, leaning forward to place a hand on Ed’s arm.

Dean clenched his jaw at the sight and thought about shooting the mangy hipster. Ed had been poorly hiding his attraction to Lou since the moment she stepped out of the Impala. Every time Dean looked over at Ed the hipster was mooning over Lou. Ed’s eyes wandered inappropriately over her figure and he blushed nearly every time she smiled. Ed was absolutely smitten, and Lou was playing him like a fiddle.

“Well. Uh.” Ed fumbled. “You see, it uh. It rapid fire scans through radio frequencies, and the white noise allows for ghosts to manipulate the radio waves to speak to us,” he said with an anxious smile. “It’s really an impressive piece of equipment for an amateur.”

Dean crossed his arms. “Is that why you guys don’t have one?”

Ed narrowed his eyes and scoffed. “I’ll have you know we have a lot of high-tech equipment. We’ve just focused on visual phenomenon thus far.”

“Ah, visual phenomenon.” Dean smirked. “Like orbs?”

“And apparitions,” Harry cut in.

“Oh, right. Apparitions,” Dean agreed.

Lou stepped between Dean and the Ghostfacers with tight smile. “So, shall we get started then?”

* * *

The moment Ed and Harry split off Lou undid the wires on her mic and flashed Dean a wicked grin.

“Ready to scare the pants off these boys?” she whispered.

Dean rolled his eyes. “They’ve already squealed twice at the wind.”

Lou’s face was dripping mischief. “Pu-lease, I’m gonna get a full on scream out of these guys.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged, “And how are you gonna do that, Princess?”

She took Dean’s hand in hers and dragged him down the hall opposite the Ghostfacers. Her hand was surprisingly small in his and cool to the touch. He was reminded briefly of silk, soft and cool against his rough hands. The contrast was strangely comforting to him and he followed behind her blindly, if only to keep her hand in his. She led him to a large room at the end of the hall and gently shut the set of double doors behind them.

Dean found himself oddly disappointed when she let go of his hand.

“When I checked the house over, I might have rigged up a few things,” she commented casually. She waltzed to the middle of the room and bent to pull the corner of the rug back, revealing the edge of a red circle.

Dean gawked. “Is that a pentagram?”

She looked up at him with innocent eyes and just a hint of smile. “Perhaps.” Lou pointed over his shoulder and Dean turned to see a creepy painting of three ravens. “Harbingers of death and a mocking of the trinity. Classic demonic signs to your average joe.” She gestured to a fireplace mantle on the far side of the room with a few old looking candles scattered across it. “Go ahead and light those candles, would ya?”

He slipped his lighter from his pocket and did as he was told. “Let me guess, trick candles?” he responded dryly.

She clicked her tongue in a condescending way. “Not just any trick candles, those babies bleed and relight themselves.”

Dean gave her a judgmental look. “Anything else you wanna share?”

She smiled wryly. “There’s a camera and a speaker above the door and there’s a fan hiding in the vent.” Lou gave a sly shrug. “You know, they usual.”

“Why a camera?” Dean asked.

Lou wrinkled her nose as though she tasted something bitter and looked disappointed that he didn’t already know the answer. “So that I can record it and reap the rewards of my hard-earned labor?”

Dean snorted a laugh and shook his head as he lit the last candle. “Remind me to never play a prank on you.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” she said in a sagely tone.

Lou took a few steps back to survey the room and crossed over to the door to see if everything looked okay from there. Apparently satisfied with the scene she’d arranged, she quickly positioned herself opposite the upturned corner of rug and looked up at him with a smile.

“You ready for my best horror movie scream?” she asked saucily.

He couldn’t help but crack a grin. “Lay it on me, baby.”

She plugged her mic cord back in and gave Dean one last million-watt smile. She took a slow breath in through her nose and then bust into a blood curdling scream.

The two idiots came rumbling down the hall. They burst through the doors and were met with Lou in absolute hysterics.

“What! What! What happened?” Ed yelled in a panic, him and Harry both were whipping around from side to side with their cameras.

“I. I don’t know. I tripped over the carpet there and then when I turned around, I saw. I saw. This big black shadow. And. And the candles lit all by themselves. Oh god!” Lou covered her face and sobbed pitifully.

Dean went to comfort her as Harry walked over to the candles to film them. He tried blowing one of them out and it flickered back to life seconds later. He tried a few more times, each try a little more frantic than the last.

“Ed, Ed, they won’t go out!” Harry said stumbling backward. He tripped over the same overturned corner of carpet which revealed more of the red painted circle beneath it.

“Holy shit.” Ed swallowed nervously. “Harry! Help me move this carpet!”

The boys peeled back the faded rug and Harry let out a strangled welp. There on the decaying floorboards was a perfectly ominous looking circle with runes and markings that Dean knew to be meaningless. It did look frightening though, and Lou had even gone so far as to leave a few drips of paint across the middle like someone had cut themselves there.

Ed cursed quietly and ran his fingers through his hair. “Holy shit!” He repeated.

Lou angled her camera up at the Ghostfacers. “What is that?”

Dean had to cover his mouth to prevent a snicker, and Lou tossed him a quick glare for breaking character.

“That’s a summoning circle,” Ed answered.

Harry started to hit Ed on the arm. “Dude, dude, the candles.”

The candles were equally effective, now seeming to bleed from the dancing flame. Red oozed over the white exterior of the candle and pooled on the mantle. Just as Ed turned to look at the bleeding candles, Dean saw Lou reach into her pocket. A gust of wind pushed through the room right on que.

“A summoning circle for what?” Lou asked in a panic.

“Ed, Ed, Ed! The EMF! Look at the EMF!” Harry held out the whirring device, pointing dramatically.

Dean glanced down at Lou, who was doing very well not being visibly proud of herself. In fact, if Dean didn’t know any better, he’d have thought she was genuinely panicked. He knew her fairly well though, and he could just catch the slightest glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

“Forget the EMF Harry! The wind, there is fucking wind inside and the candles are bleeding!” Ed yelled.

“A summoning circle for what!” Lou repeated frantically.

Before either of them could answer something started to growl and grumble from the hidden speaker.

“A demon,” Ed whispered in fear.

“Oh god, ohgod, ohgod,” Harry started hyperventilating.

Guttural whispers of Latin and Aramaic drifted through the room, and the speed of the fan picked up. Lou’s curls whipped around her face and the tattered curtains lifted and swayed with the wind. Lou held her camera up steady and stepped closer to Dean.

“What do we do?” Lou called out over the wind.

“I don’t know! Don’t you know?” Ed gestured to Dean accusingly. “Didn’t you have a gun last time?”

A sharp growl broke through the room and Harry cried out while Ed squealed.

“Pull yourself together Harry!” Ed’s voice was tight. “We gotta get it together. We’re Ghostfacers! We can do this!”

Harry took in quick shallow breaths. “Yeah. Yeah. We’re Ghostfacers!” Harry started to hum their theme song in an attempt to bolster his courage.

Ed turned to Dean. “Last time, last time you had a gun! In Texas!” Ed insisted. “Do you have one now??”

Dean slipped his gun from the back of his jeans, being sure to hold it up toward the camera. “Never go anywhere without it.”

Lou grabbed at his shirt desperately. “But Dean, will that work? Can you shoot a demon?”

Unable to resist the moment, Dean wrapped an arm around Lou and pulled her in close. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

Lou nearly lost it, looking up at him with big sad eyes until that line. She buried her face in Deans chest to smother a laugh. Her shoulders shaking like sobs as she tried to muffle her laughter.

Dean pursed his lips with his own effort not to smile.

“We should. We should exorcise it or something. Right?” Harry said, stepping in close to Ed.

“Yeah. Yeah. Exorcise it!” Ed agreed.

A loud demonic growl tore through the air and the Ghostfacers both let loose chilling, high-pitched screams.

“Or we could leave!!” Ed suggested loudly.

“Yup,” Harry agreed and they both took off in a run.

* * *

The Impala doors shut in unison and Dean and Lou looked at each other briefly before breaking into a fit of laughter.

“That scream was definitely horror movie material! You’ve missed your calling,” Dean complimented.

“What about you? When you were all, ‘I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.’ I almost died!” Lou curled forward with laughter. “That was totally a Bruce Campbell worthy one-liner!”

Dean smirked proudly. “It was pretty good, huh?”

Lou nodded through her tears, not bothering to wipe away the evidence of her amusement. “It was perfect.”

Dean laughed a little more, but a twinge of concern overtook him as he watched the Ghostfacers load up their van in a panic. “Are you sure that thing you rigged up in their van will wipe everything?”

“Yes, Dean. I’m sure.” Lou rolled her eyes. “Man, and I thought Sammy was the party pooper.”

Dean turned to her with a hurt expression. “Ouch.”

She just smiled and held the camera up to focus on him. “So, now that it’s all over… aren’t you glad you came?”

He examined her for a moment, the light of the camera catching her brown eyes and her grin tipped up to on one side, revealing a dimple in her flushed cheeks.

He gave a soft chuckle and smiled at her over the camera, “Yeah. I’m glad I came.”


	11. Hebrew, Martha Stewart, and Secrets

Lou ran her fingers through her hair and sighed heavily, squinting as the light caught her eyes. The library was brightly lit this time of day with the morning sun streaming in through the windows. She pulled the curtains closed with a hard yank. Normally she felt that the daylight cast a warm and cheerful look on an otherwise serious room, but today it was irritating. Today she wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed.

“Please, Miss Smith, I would rest much easier if you would just come and look at it,” the Rabbi explained over the phone. His heavy Yiddish accent was painfully loud in her ear.

She didn’t have time for this. With Sam and Dean here she couldn’t afford to be caught up in a case, no matter how small. Especially not a case involving her father’s work.

“I understand that,” Lou’s voice tightened. “I’m willing to come, but I need a few days to get out there.”

“The crack is very deep,” the Rabbi insisted. “I’m afraid it could already be dangerous.”

Lou opened her mouth to answer but stopped short as she heard the creak of floorboards behind her.

She spun around to see Dean moseying into the library with a cup of coffee. He looked as fine as ever, with a little bed head and a mischievous grin as he raised an eyebrow at the phone in her hand.

Lou ignored him and turned around to continue the call. She switched to Hebrew on instinct.

 _”How deep exactly?”_ she hissed.

The Rabbi didn’t answer right away, “Why are you speaking Hebrew?”

Lou gritted her teeth. _“Just answer the question!”_

“In Hebrew?” the Rabbi asked in confusion.

 _“I don’t care what language!”_ she snapped. _“How deep is the crack?”_

The Rabbi fumbled. “I. I don’t know exactly; I didn’t measure it. It runs the entire length of the jar and it’s big enough for a fingernail.”

Lou smeared her hand over her face in frustration and disbelief. _“Please tell me you didn’t poke the crack with your nail…”_

“Well.” The Rabbi cleared his throat defensively. “I was just testing to see if the crack was superficial.”

Lou let her head drop back in defeat and she stared up at the ceiling. _“I’ll be there by tonight… Rabbi?”_

“Yes?” he responded hopefully.

 _“Don’t fucking touch it again. Nobody else touches it. Don’t even breath on it, alright?”_ She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Of course!” he agreed. “Thank you so much Miss Smith.”

She didn’t bother responding. She hung up the phone and had a painful desire to throw it across the room. She hated lying to Dean, and she knew she’d have to lie about this.

Dean was unphased by her silent frustration. “Was that Hebrew?”

Lou glanced at him over her shoulder, admittedly surprised that he recognized the language.

“Yeah. I um.” She struggled for a moment. “Look, I’ve got to step out for a day. You guys are welcome to stay here but I…”

Dean cut her off. “You’ve got a case?”

Lou winced and chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Not exactly. It’s difficult to explain but I just need to check on something.”

Dean frowned. “Check on what?”

Lou licked her lips. “Well. A storage facility of sorts. There’s an item that’s been damaged and I’m just going to assess the break and possibly make repairs.”

Dean watched her with a curious expression, and his head tilted cutely to one side. “Like a curse box?”

Lou shrugged, trying not to get caught up in how attractive he was. “Same principle, yeah.”

“How far out?” he asked while sipping on his coffee.

“Just a few hours away in New York,” she answered honestly. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Dean set his cup down on the desk and Lou wrinkled her nose. Dean realized his mistake quickly enough and set the cup on a coaster before continuing, “I could come with you.”

Lou froze. “Uh, that’s uh. That’s sweet, but unnecessary.”

Dean leaned back against the desk with a tilted grin. “Come on, you tryin’ to say you don’t want to take a day trip with me?”

Lou tried not to smile back but failed. “Dean, it’s really not necessary.”

He crossed his arms. “It’s also not necessary for you to go alone. You realize most hunters don’t do this alone, right?”

Lou chewed on the inside of her cheek some more, knowing it would be raw by the end of the day, if not the hour. “It’s not really a hunt though, Dean. The Rabbi is just a little spooked, and I’m mostly going to keep him from panicking.”

“Then you won’t mind some company,” Dean replied with an easy smile.

Lou laughed slightly and then sighed, trying to rub the exhaustion from her face. “You aren’t gonna give up, are you?”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. “Nope.”

Lou sighed again. “Fine. I’m gonna get my things, we leave in half an hour.”

Dean practically jumped to his feet. “Great, I’ll drive.”

* * *

The car ride was more than uncomfortable. It was unnaturally quiet between them and Lou was trying not to drive herself into a panic.

She shouldn’t have let him come along. What if it turned out to be more than just a broken Demon jar? What if something went wrong? Would Dean agree to leave the room and let her handle it? Would she have to lie to him? So far she’d gotten away with half-truths and omissions, but it wouldn’t be the first time she had to tell an outright lie.

She hated lying to Dean.

“So…” Dean said slowly, his voice breaking into her thoughts with a jolt. “You gonna explain more about the job?”

Lou grimaced. “It’s really not a job. It’s like a check-up, or a repair.”

“Okay,” Dean corrected himself. “You gonna explain more about the check-up and/or repair?”

Lou bit the inside of her lip roughly and took a deep steadying breath. She needed to relax; she didn’t have to lie to him. She just had to leave out the details.

“Have you ever heard of a Demon Jar?” Lou asked cautiously.

Dean frowned and shook his head. “No, is that like a genie in the bottle type thing?”

Lou pursed her lips but couldn’t help a small smile at the comparison. “Kind of? A Demon Jar is something my father invented. Basically, during an exorcism you use one of the jars to trap the demon. Theoretically it keeps said demon from escaping hell again and possessing a new body.”

“Makes sense to me,” Dean replied. “Sounds like a pretty neat invention, why haven’t I heard of it?”

Lou tilted her head from one side to the other as she considered how to answer. “It’s… cumbersome?”

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “While I’m always a fan of five-dollar words, what do you mean by cumbersome?”

“I mean, its ludicrously difficult. The jars are handmade, the process is complex, and the incantation is ancient Hebrew. Even if I made the process public, I couldn’t provide the jars and it’s not something you can just fudge,” she said. “Plus, if you succeed then you’ve gotta store the jar. And if it breaks, out pops a demon whom you’ve trapped and now it has a personal vendetta against you.”

“Okay, so what does this have to do with the case?” Dean asked.

Lou answered simply, “One of the jars is cracked. I’m going to inspect the damage and decide if it can be repaired or needs replaced.”

Dean gave her a confused look. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she reassured him.

Dean glanced at her out of the corner of his eye while he drove. “Why were you so reluctant to go then? Sounds like an easy enough job.”

Lou turned to him in surprise. She hadn’t expected that question. She expected him to ask more about the jar, like if she could teach him to use it, or how her father discovered such a thing.

“Well, um. Some of the facilities we store the jars in, are synagogues and masques, and most of them have guardians of a sort, and most of them know…” The mistake made her stomach lurch. She turned away from Dean and stared out the Impala window absently. “Most of them knew my father.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, but she could still feel him watching her. “And that bothers you?”

“Let’s just say… it’s not my favorite thing. Okay?” she said in a soft but bitter tone.

Catching the ‘I don’t want to talk about this’ vibe, Dean turned on the radio and Led Zepplin began to pump through the Impala speakers. She smiled some despite herself, thinking of the first time she was ever in the Impala. She remembered John picking out the Led Zepplin tape specifically and how he talked about his sons. Then she remembered John asking her to wait in the car while he and her father talked.

Lou had turned the music up loud and watched absently as the two men argued in front of the car. She always wondered what they argued about, but whatever it was, she never saw John again after that case.

She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, trying to push the unpleasant memories from her mind. Her father’s disappointed glare and snarl of disapproval lingered. She’d made a mistake on that case; she couldn’t remember exactly what she did so much as she remembered being embarrassed at having made the mistake in front of John.

She pressed her palms together at the memory. She could feel the stinging sensation of the cane across the sensitive skin of her palms and it made teeth clench. The memory was painfully vivid. She could hear the cane sign through the air and the smack of it against her hands.

Lou closed her eyes a little tighter and tried to focus. She focused on the familiar sound of Led Zepplin, on the sound of the engine roaring, and the wheels on the highway. She fixated on the feel of the leather seat, the seatbelt across her chest, and the cool glass of the windowpane. She counted off each sensation to center herself. There was an unexpected patter of raindrops against the glass and she opened her eyes to see that it had begun to pour.

Dean flipped on the windshield whippers and Lou closed her eyes again as the rain picked up. The heavy downpour and the consistent swishing of the whippers cleared her mind. She breathed in the scent of coffee filling the impala along with the faint smell of leather and motor oil. It was strangely comforting.

Everything was fine. She could handle this. She wasn’t going to give anything away that she shouldn’t. This was a simple case. In and out. Over and done. Her father was long gone and even if the Rabbi remembered him, that wasn’t going to make Stan appear out of thin air. She just had to stay focused.

Dean being there was fine. Completely and totally fine.

* * *

Lou was surprised to find that the crack was just as bad as the Rabbi had expressed. Not that she didn’t believe him, she just knew that it wasn’t unusual for civilians to overreact in these situations.

The Rabbi had led them directly to his office. The room was cramped with bookshelves lining the wall, a dilapidated leather couch, a handful of chairs, and a large cluttered desk. The room was in chaos with books and knick-knacks everywhere. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have said that it looked exactly as it had the last time she visited.

Lou didn’t waste time ruminating on her previous trips, she got straight to work. She held the jar delicately in her hand and rotated it slowly. The smooth reddish clay was mostly intact, except for one long crack down the side. There was a point of impact where the jar had fallen and two spidery fissures extending out of it.

“So, do you think it needs replaced?” The Rabbi urged. The old man was wringing his hands together nervously.

The Rabbi was a good reflection of his office. He had a rotund figure with a scraggly beard and thinning hair. He wore wire frame glasses and had cheeks that would have leant more to a cheerful expression, but for the moment he had an anxious disposition. His wardrobe was nearly as disheveled as his office with his knitted cardigan buttoned unevenly.

Dean placed a hand on the Rabbi’s shoulder with a relaxed smile and answered for her, “Come on Rabbi, calm down, and give her a minute to check it out.”

“Of course,” the Rabbi muttered with a frightened nod. “Of course, you’re right. What did you say your name was young man?”

Dean grinned. “I’m Dean.”

The Rabbi reached out to take his hand and shook it. “It’s good to meet you Dean. It so nice that Miss Smith has found a work companion. You know when her father died… did you know her father?”

Dean shook his head. “No, I didn’t have that pleasure.”

The Rabbi kept hold of Dean’s hand and gave a slow understanding nod, as though Dean had missed out on something by not meeting Stanley. “He was a good man. Very generous and devout. I worried a lot when her father passed. She was so young, but she insisted on continuing her father’s work. We are truly blessed to have her.” The Rabbi patted Dean’s hand while anxiously watching Lou out of the corner of his eye. “But it’s good to know she’s not working alone anymore. Not that she not capable, but you know a young woman on her own… Have you two been together long?”

Lou spoke up before Dean could answer, “It doesn’t need replaced Rabbi, I can repair it.”

The Rabbi squeezed Dean’s hand and gave them both a pitiful look. “Will you repair it now? Before you go?”

Lou did her best to look at him kindly, but she only managed a fatigued smile. “Yes Rabbi, I’ll repair it now. Do you have a suitable space for me to work?”

The Rabbi gestured around them to his office. “You can work here. Please, make yourself at home. Whatever you need.”

Lou nodded, thinking there was just enough room for her to work and gingerly set the pot down on the desk. She moved to grab her suitcase and laid it down on the ground before flipping it open. She pulled out a large folded tarp first and laid it out with the Devil’s trap side down. Next, she pulled out the wooden box she used for repairs. She stood the box upright and unlatched it.

The inside of the vintage case was carefully organized with drawers on one side and vials and bottles on the other. There was one old creased composition notebook tucked behind the vials and she touched it with a sense of nostalgia before beginning to remove the components she required.

She started with holy water from the Jordan River, followed by a small bag of dirt, a mixing bowl, a few rags, and clay tools. She laid everything out methodically across the tarp and then got to her feet once more. She picked up the jar carefully and set it down on the tarp with the supplies.

The Rabbi was watching each movement intensely and she turned to him with more than a little annoyance. “This would be a lot less stressful for you if you don’t watch.”

The Rabbi looked from her to Dean and back before nodding. “I’ll just be. I’ll be outside. Just uh. Let me know. If you need anything.”

Lou nodded and waited for him to leave before doing anything else. Once the door was latched behind him, she moved into place on the tarp and sat down. She crossed her legs and began her work without so much as a word to Dean.

He was pretty good about not being nosy while she worked. Even when he would come with her to the bakery, he would do his best to stay out of her way.

Lou started by taking a small rag and soaking it in the holy water. She tipped the jar on its side and gently laid the rag over the crack in the jar. She then began to make slip using the dirt from Jerusalem and the holy water.

“Anything I can do to help?” Dean asked as he sat down across from her.

Lou had nearly forgotten he was there. She looked up and blinked in confusion before shaking her head.

“Not unless I fuck it up and the jar breaks,” she said. “Which isn’t likely. It’s reinforced with an iron band in the middle. It impacted on the iron which is probably why it didn’t shatter in the first place.”

“Did he say how it got dropped?” Dean asked.

“No, I’ll check it out before I leave though,” she said, returning to the slip.

It was quiet for a moment more before Dean spoke again, “So, that jar holds a demon?”

“Yes,” she answered simply.

“And this is what you do when you get called out to ‘consult’ on a case?” he asked in a leading tone.

“Not always, but yes. I do frequently get calls regarding my father’s work,” she explained, her focus on the task at hand.

A mischievous grin spread across his handsome lips. “So, demonic arts and crafts, huh? That’s your big secret?”

She glared at him and rolled her eyes, but the word secret frazzled her. “What secret? It’s a repair job. I mean I could do it the hard way and try to wrestle the demon into submission, but I’d much rather just repair the jar and go home.”

Dean shrugged. “Hey, I’m not stopping you. I was just thinking I worried for nothing. You’re the Martha Stewart of hunting.”

Lou snorted. “Yup, that’s me. Fighting the good fight with the gifts of a hostess with the mostest.”

Dean chortled a laugh and Lou couldn’t help but smile back. Dean continued to chat with her as she worked, asking her a few questions as she went.

Once the jar had softened a little under the rag, she scratched the surface with a little raking tool and began to apply the thick slip to the crack. She worked with experienced fingers, taking her time to ensure the crack was completely filled before thinning out the slip and smoothing it over the surface. Once complete she began to mutter a blessing over the clay out of habit.

When she was done, she set it down and began to clean up after herself.

“All done?” Dean asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. You can go get the Rabbi if you want.”

She wiped off her hands and the tools. And pulled out a small ziplock bag to place the left-over slip in. She wiped the bowl out as best she could and placed the dirty rags in another larger ziplock bag. She packed everything up and closed the box with a satisfying click before placing it in her suitcase. She picked up the Demon jar and gave it one last inspection before setting it on the desk and folding up the tarp.

The Rabbi bustled in and Lou gave a tight smile as he gushed praise and thanks.

* * *

Once back in the Impala Lou collapsed back into the seat and sighed with relief.

“Tuckered out there, Princess?” Dean teased.

She glared at him and he laughed. “I’ve had a lot of cases lately. I think something is purposefully trying to break the jars,” she explained. “I think I’m gonna have to start rotating them from location to location. Which is a pain but…”

She tilted her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. She didn’t like shuffling inventory but this last year it had become an increasing issue. Unless she wanted to be on the road full time again, she needed to find a solution.

Dean interrupted her train of thought. “Was that the same kind of case you got when you called a few weeks ago?”

Lou answered on instinct, “Yes.” The lie left an acrid taste in her mouth and she grimaced.

Dean noticed, and his face hardened. “Seriously?”

Lou chewed on her lip and quietly corrected herself, “Sorry, I don’t know why I… I’m sorry. That’s not the kind of call I got a few weeks ago.”

“Then why lie about it?” his voice was sharp.

Lou flinched. “I don’t know. I’m just used to keeping things to myself I guess.”

Dean started the Impala but didn’t pull away.

She glanced at him and he was looking at her with a deadly serious expression.

Lou sighed again. “What?”

Dean’s eyes bored into her. “What kind of case was it then?”

She pursed her lips. “It wasn’t that big a deal, Dean. It was just a standard exorcism.”

“Right, because exorcisms are no big deal,” he sneered.

“They aren’t,” she quipped. “That’s literally my main job.”

She watched him clench his jaw, biting back a retort before turning away. “I just don’t love the idea of you hunting alone,” he admitted.

She swallowed, trying not to let his heartfelt answer get to her. “Dean. I’m not technically alone. I get called in by other hunters, so I’ve got back up. Plus, you know full well I’m a capable hunter.”

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Would you call if you needed help?”

Lou hesitated but, in the end, decided to answer honestly, “I don’t know. I’ve never been in that situation.”

Dean snorted. “You’ve never struggled with a case? What about a few months ago when you fractured your ribs?”

“I wouldn’t define that as a struggle, the guy that called me in was a noob and didn’t properly secure the demon,” she explained. “They just got in one good hit.”

He rolled his eyes. “So you’re telling me that you’ve never wished you had some back up.”

Lou shifted her weight, pushing back the memory of getting restrained and cut for days on end. Her scars itched and her mouth felt dry. She did her best to cover and shrugged her shoulders limply. “I don’t know, Dean. I’ve been hunting on my own for a long time.”

Dean didn’t answer, his jaw set and his eyes dark. His angry expression struck her deeply, and she felt sick to her stomach as Dean started to drive.

For a brief moment, Lou considered telling him the truth. The whole truth. The secret she’d kept her entire life clawed at her chest, desperate to be free. She could trust Dean, couldn’t she?

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, she was overwhelmed with an avalanche of vivid memories she couldn’t shake.

Even after all these years she could still feel her father’s hand on her throat. His thick fingers wrapped around her neck and chocking the breath out of her. Her father’s warnings echoed in her mind. Years of silence weighed on her.

She snapped her mouth shut and closed her eyes.

It’s not safe to tell anyone. It’s a secret for a reason. Father would be furious if she told their secret… Shame swept over her for being afraid of her father after all this time. The man was dead for God’s sake.

Regardless of her fear, her father was right. If people, or god forbid demons, knew who or what she was, she’d never get any peace. It could put everyone she knew in danger. Normal people like Maze and Marty, even hunters like Bobby and Dean would be at risk. No matter how hard it was on her, or how difficult it was to lie, it was better that way. It was safer for everyone.

Lou glanced over at Dean again, hating to keep the truth from him. He still looked angry, and she chewed the inside of her lip. She couldn’t blame him for feeling frustrated, and probably hurt at having caught her in a lie. She had to say something. Anything.

“Today was nice…” she said quietly.

“What?” he snapped.

She shrank back and hesitated at hearing his irritation, but she steeled herself against it. “Having you there today, it was nice to have the company,” she explained. “Even if it wasn’t a very exciting case.”

Dean glanced over at her and his anger slowly faded. A lazy smirk spread over his lips.

“Of course, you liked having me around. I’m awesome,” he said with a shrug.

Lou smiled with relief, the tension in her shoulders falling loose as she agreed with him. “Yeah, totally awesome.”


	12. Cold Showers, Questions, and Chinese

Dean brightened as Lou’s name flashed across his phone. She had already called him once this morning, so it was an unexpected pleasure for him to get two calls in one day.

“Baby, I know you miss me but you gotta stop calling like this,” he teased.

The answer he received was not the playful banter he was expecting.

“No time for foreplay, hot shot. Where are you?” Lou’s voice was tense.

Dean frowned. “East Coast, why?”

There was a shuffle over the phone line, and he heard what sounded like the front door slamming shut. “Where, specifically?” she pressed.

“Your neck of the woods actually. Near Atlantic City,” he answered tightly.

Lou cursed under her breath. “Hang on.” The phone got stuffed in a pocket and he heard her opening up the garage doors followed by a jingle of keys and the phone being brought back to her ear. “I’ll be there in a few hours. Pick me up at the airport,” she demanded.

“Wait, what?” Dean was up and out of his chair in a panic. The entire restaurant turned to look at him, but he didn’t care. “Why? What’s wrong?”

He heard her the door of her truck slam shut, followed by the engine rolling over. Lou sighed heavily. “Gordon is what’s wrong. He called me looking for you.”

Dean’s jaw clamped shut, and he forced the curse word through his teeth. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck,” she echoed. “I’ll be there in three hours.”

“How are you gonna get a flight that fast?” Dean asked.

Lou snorted. “I know a guy.”

With that the line went dead.

* * *

True to her word Lou was walking out of the pickup doors of the airport exactly three hours later.

She was looking cool and casual with a vintage sheepskin coat swallowing her up and a simple black carry-on bag rolling behind her.

Dean watched her a moment before their eyes caught across the crowd, and Dean cocked an evocative smile. He crossed his legs and leaned back against the Impala, forcing Lou to come to him.

“Looking for a ride, Princess?” He let his eyes travel down her body suggestively and as usual Lou was looking inappropriately hot for what she was wearing.

She was sporting a pair of acid wash jeans with clunky hiking boots and where her coat hung open, he could see a fitted black turtleneck. No scrunchie though. Her hair was loose around her shoulders in playful curls that bounced as she walked over to him.

“Why? You offering?” She smirked.

Dean shrugged dismissively. “Thinking about it, but you know…” He sighed. “I got a thing for girls with scrunchies, and you just don’t fit the bill.”

Lou arced an eyebrow suggestively and slipped a black scrunchie from her pocket with a wicked grin. “You mean, like this bad boy?”

Dean hissed in a breath and bit his lip in mock arousal as Lou pulled her hair back. She wiggled her shoulders and turned her head to show off the ponytail.

Dean lost the game when he let out a chuckle, and he threw his hands up in defeat. “You win.”

He was just about to stand up to grab her bag when Lou lunged at him, the edge of the sidewalk putting her at the perfect height to drape her arms over his shoulders and fall into him. He let out a small puff at the unexpected weight but held fast.

It never ceased to amaze him how Lou could make him forget everything. He forgot the tension between him and Sam, his crossroads deal, Gordon, monsters, everything just evaporated around her. He slipped his hands under her coat and clung to her.

Her waist was daintier than he imagined it to be, and he realized they hadn’t hugged like this before. Before she always wrapped her arms around his torso and he would hug her shoulders, but this was different. This was better. Her whole body was pressed up against him, and he got the chance to bury himself in the nape of her neck with a contented sigh. She smelled good. The weather was cold, but she smelled warm, like sunshine and honey.

He was actually thankful for the turtleneck because he was tempted to taste her there, to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

A cough interrupted Dean’s fantasy. Dean looked up to see Sammy a few feet away and the whole world came crashing back down on him.

He lifted Lou off of him regretfully and set her back on the pavement. She gave Dean a puzzled look, but quickly turned her attention to Sam with a smile.

“Sam, how are you?” she asked politely. Dean couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t hug Sam this time.

“I’m good… Hey, uh, what flight did you come in on? I didn’t see anything from Vermont on the board.” Sam pointed a thumb over his shoulder to show where he’d been.

Lou just shrugged. “I’ve got a guy.” She spun on her heels and pointed to her bag. “We going or not?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course, Princess, let me get that for you.”

Sam snorted a laugh and went to open the trunk for him.

She gave little indifferent hum and waltzed past him to the passenger side door. Just as he was handing Sammy the bag, he watched Lou stop and place an affectionate hand on the hood of the Impala. She splayed her fingers out and gave a wistful sigh.

“You gettin’ hot and heavy with my Baby there, Princess?” Dean asked with a smirk.

Lou shot him an offended look. “I didn’t want her to think I forgot about her. It might hurt her feelings.”

Sam laughed out loud. “Oh god, not you too.”

Lou bristled. “She’s a Lady, Sam. She deserves respect.”

“Yeah Sam, she’s a lady,” Dean retorted slapping Sam’s chest with the back of his hand. “Show some respect.”

* * *

When they got to the motel Dean asked if she wanted to run to the office for a room, and Lou just glanced over her shoulder at the Motel sign where the neon words ‘No Vacancy’ were glowing brightly.

“Nope, looks like I’m bunking with you guys,” she teased. “Come on. We’ve got shit to talk about.”

Inside Lou got straight to the point. “So, I’m assuming you know why Gordon is after you?”

Sam tensed. “He’s insane.”

Lou looked over at him suspiciously and then turned her focus to Dean.

Dean tried to keep it as vague as possible for Sam’s sake. “We’ve had some run ins before that didn’t go so well, and he’s convinced Sam is evil or something.”

Lou’s mouth twisted up and her expression hardened. “He thinks Sam is the Anti-Christ that will lead an army of demons to end the world,” Lou clarified. “It doesn’t do any good to beat around the bush here.” Lou glanced around the room with discomfort and for a moment Dean was embarrassed to have brought her back to a motel. “Have you blessed this room already?”

This was not the question he had expected. “What?”

“Have you blessed the room?” Lou repeated.

Sam broke in on the conversation here with a sharp voice. “No, why would we bless the room? Can we stay on topic here?”

Lou gave Sam an annoyed look. “Sure, I can talk and bless at the same time.” She laid her suitcase out across one of the beds and pulled out a thin wooden briefcase. “So, to explain, I know Gordon through Kubrick, who is a fanatic but typically harmless. At least he used to be until he started following Gordon around.” She tsked in frustration. “Anyway. I’m pretty cautious with what other hunters know about me. Kubrick knew me as Smith and told Gordon I was a demon expert. Gordon called me to try and recruit me to his cause. He heard that I was close with Bobby and was hoping I had some connections with you guys.”

“What did you say?” Sam’s voice had more bite than Dean liked.

Lou’s answer was taut, “I told him that I’d never worked with the Winchesters, but that I’d keep an ear to the ground.”

She paused in front of the open wooden case and Dean noticed it was different than the one she used for Demon jars. The case was neatly packed with glass bottles, a dagger, a small mason jar of herbs, a clay jar, a few composition notebooks, and a few decrepit scrolls. She placed her hands on her hips and turned to face the two of them.

“Look, I don’t have to be here, but Gordon has been on my hunter blacklist for years. He’s fucked up in the head, and I want to help. If you don’t want my help; I can leave,” Lou explained.

“Why do you want to help?” Sam demanded.

Lou’s face fell into a deep frown. “I like to help when my friends are in trouble.”

Dean spoke up before Sammy could say anything else, “An extra set of hands never hurt.”

Dean smiled at Lou and gave Sam a brief glare as she turned back to her case.

* * *

When they got done talking it was nearly three in the morning and Dean was too tired to think about sleeping arrangements. Sam had crashed into his own bed, out cold in seconds, and Dean didn’t think much of it until Lou emerged from the bathroom with fresh damp skin and pjs. Her face had a light flush to it from the heat of the shower and Dean tried not to imagine any other reasons she might be red faced.

She had on a familiar loose-fitting Metallica shirt and a pair of yoga pants that hugged her hips dangerously. Dean had nearly forgotten how much he loved seeing her like this, soft and comfortable. He wanted to hold her again, to slip his arms around her waist and bury himself in her crook of her shoulder.

“You gonna make me sleep with the Sasquatch?” Lou asked in a whisper as Dean stared at her.

Dean gave his sleeping brother an inquisitive look and then turned back to Lou shaking his head. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

Lou gave a breathy laugh and crawled under the covers on the right side of his bed. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat and said a small prayer for self-restraint under his breath.

He slipped under the covers after her, and as he lifted the blanket Lou’s scent hit him like a tidal wave. Sweet and tempting and clean.

Lou whined softly, “Put the covers down, it’s cold.”

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

He settled into the bed as best he could, but all the tired he’d felt just moments ago had evaporated. Minutes ticked by with nothing but the sound of Sammy’s snores filling the room.

Lou rolled over to face him. “Dean?”

“Hm?” he answered, not chancing to look at her.

“Is everything ok?” she whispered.

Dean tensed. “Yup.”

She reached out to him under the covers, her cold fingers gliding over his skin like ice. In contrast Dean felt like he was on fire laying there next to her.

“Seriously, Dean,” she appealed. “At the airport you had this look on your face when you saw Sam.”

Her tone was reassuring somehow, even as she pushed him for answers.

He sighed bitterly. “What do you want me to say Lou?”

He finally looked over at her and she was frowning as she studied him.

“Complaining about it isn’t gonna do either of us any good,” he said cynically.

She pursed her lips into a thin line and then chewed on the inside of her cheek as though she were considering what to say. In the end she just nodded. “Ok,” she said softy.

Dean was surprised to hear no disappointment in her voice for being turned down and she simply scooted closer.

“I’m cold,” Lou changed the subject with a shiver.

“That’s what happens when you take a shower before bed,” Dean retorted.

Lou pouted. “But you guys take showers in the morning, and I didn’t want there to be no hot water.”

“Poor Princess.” Dean chuckled as he rolled to face her. He pulled her body to him without thinking. “You’ve gotten soft, you know. All that pie and your cushy Victorian house.”

For a brief moment Dean worried that this was too much. Friends didn’t cuddle like this, only lovers held each other as they slept but he had no idea how to take it back without making it more awkward. He had initiated this, so he decided to leave the ball in Lou’s court. If it was weird, she would pull away or say something snarky.

Lou didn’t appear to care in the slightest. She snuggled closer, tangling their legs together and pressing her cold toes to his calves.

Just like at the airport, Lou’s touch drove everything from his mind and relaxation flooded through him.

“You’re soft,” she grumbled in lieu of a witty retort. She pressed her face to his chest with a yawn and Dean held her tighter as she mumbled, “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Princess,” he murmured back.

* * *

When Dean woke the next morning, Lou’s body was draped over his chest with her hand under his shirt and her leg thrown over his. For half a second, he panicked, worried about what it meant or if it would run something for them to be laying together so intimately. But he remembered that it was Lou’s choice to stay so close and he let himself relax. He smiled to himself and kept one arm wrapped around her, running his fingers over the soft skin of her arm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept that well or felt so peaceful. It was heavenly.

Until Dean realized he was pitching a tent.

A very obvious, painfully hard, tent for the sweet, innocent body pressed against him.

He glanced over at Sam’s bed to assess his options, and to his dismay, Sam’s bed was empty. His brother was awake, which meant there was no taking care of it.

Not that he should consider that option. Lou was his friend and she didn’t deserve to be treated like a booty call. She was better than that, no matter how good she smelled or how good it felt to have her body pressed up against him.

Not to mention he had a sneaking suspicion that Bobby might throttle him if he hurt Lou.

He soaked up her touch for a few more minutes, enjoying her slow steady breaths, but it didn’t last long. She shifted slightly and her thigh brushed up against his morning wood.

He clenched his jaw so hard it felt like his teeth might break, and slowly, carefully, he untangled himself from Lou. She gave a whine of disappointment that sounded a little too much like a moan, and he grimaced, cursing his imagination for taking it that way.

Dean heard Sam chortle from the other side of the room, and Dean glared at his younger brother.

Sammy was unphased and returned to his coffee with a smug expression, and Dean hobbled to the bathroom.

Dean closed the bathroom door behind him and collapsed back against door in frustration. Dean looked at his reflection accusingly, and his reflection stared back with equal malice. He needed to get this under control, he couldn’t keep thinking of Lou like that. He cursed under his breath and ran his hands over his face and then through his hair.

Today already felt too long.

He walked over to the shower and put it on full blast. He took a shower so cold he thought his prick might fall off. Incidentally, it sent the boner packing and he emerged from the bathroom without the extra accessory.

Sam narrowed his eyes when Dean’s gaze immediately fell on Lou.

“She’s still asleep,” Sam confirmed as he sipped his coffee.

Dean didn’t answer and instead went for the coffee pot. He poured a cup and sighed contently as he went to sit across from Sam, who was watching him intently.

“What?” Dean finally snapped.

Sam shrugged. “Nothing I was just curious how long you were planning on letting her fall for you before you dropped the news that you’ve got a due date.”

Dean glowered at his younger brother. “Can it, Sammy. “

“Why? Afraid she might hear me?” Sam hissed as he leaned over the table. “Dean why is she here? This girl is a total mystery. We know nothing about her.”

“We know enough, drop it,” Dean snapped.

“Come on Dean, the scars? The fortress style farmhouse? ‘I gotta guy’ when we asked about how she got here? And the fact that Gordon reached out to her?” Sam expounded. “I called Ellen this morning and she said all she knows is that Lou goes by Smith and people call her when they have a demon problem. Then she said that Lou doesn’t even let them in the room when she takes care of a demon.”

Dean set his cup down with a snarl. “You called Ellen? Seriously? What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? Dean, I called a friend to ask about her. Honestly, I don’t know whether to be more bothered by the fact that you just blindly trust her or the fact that you’re using her as a band aid for all your problems,” Sam said in disgust.

Dean stood up. “Sammy, I swear to God. If I have to tell you one more time to drop it, I’m gonna…”

“You’ll what Dean?” Sammy retorted.

“Enough,” Lou’s voice broke through the air like a gunshot. “Both of you.”

When they looked over Lou was sitting up in the bed with the covers around her waist. She sighed but it quickly morphed into a yawn and she stretched.

“Fuck I hate motel beds,” she mumbled, rubbing her hand over her face in frustration. Dean tried to speak first, and Lou held up a hand to stop him. “It’s fine Dean, Sam’s allowed to be concerned.”

She crawled out of the bed and walked over to the coffee pot to pour herself a cup. She turned back to the brothers with the cup hovering under her lips.

“I’ve got some well-earned trust issues Sam. I keep things to myself for my own safety and the safety of others. I don’t mind you vetting me,” she paused to take a sip of her coffee. “But I’d prefer that in the future you don’t use my first name around other hunters, just like Ellen said most of them call me Smith and I’d rather keep it that way.” She took another life-giving sip from the cup before setting it down on the counter beside her and crossing her arms. “Here’s my offer; I’ll give you one question that I’ll answer with complete honesty.”

“Lou, you don’t have to do that,” Dean interjected, but Lou only looked at him briefly before turning up her nose indignantly.

“You’re right. I don’t. But Sam and I clearly have to settle this.” Her eyes were laser focused on Sam.

“One question? That’s it, huh? And after that I’m supposed to trust you?” Sam sneered.

“Yeah, Sam. One question. Complete honesty. Take it or leave it because it’s not like you guys have been up front with me,” she said in an irritated tone.

Sam straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Yellow eyes? Gate to Hell? The demon knife? Ruby? The colt? Should I go on?” she scorned.

Sam glared. “Bobby tell you all that?”

“Some of it, yeah. Some of it Gordon told me, some of it I just picked up through the grape vine because I’m an expert in demonology, and my phone’s been ringing off the hook since I met you,” Lou quipped.

“Why doesn’t Bobby tell us things about you?” Sammy asked sourly.

“Because he knows I have good reasons to keep secrets,” Lou responded.

There was silence between them as they stared down.

“One question?” Sam repeated.

Lou nodded.

Sam’s expression was cold as the words left his mouth, “How did you get those scars?”

Lou flinched but didn’t waver otherwise. “That’s your question, you’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure,” Sam answered icily.

Lou hesitated but nodded. “Alright.” She swallowed and her hands tightened on her arms. “Dean, I need you to take a drive.”

Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What?” he reeled. “You’re gonna tell him but not me?”

“Yes.” Lou only made the briefest of eye contact before looking away.

Dean gritted his teeth. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him, but it did. He hated the thought of his brother knowing something about Lou that he didn’t.

“Why?” he pressed.

Lou turned her eyes to the floor as she answered, “Because.”

Dean could see that she was uncomfortable, upset even, and it made him all the more angry. “Fine.”

He left the two them alone with a slam of the door and when he got back an hour later Lou wasn’t in the room.

“Where is she Sam?” Dean seethed.

“She went to see about her own room,” Sam said quietly.

The silence between them was thick, and Dean was the one to break it.

“Well,” he pushed. “Did her answer make you trust her?”

Sam cringed. “I don’t know.”

Dean had never wanted to hit his brother so badly in his life, he opened his mouth to ask more but Sam spoke first.

“Before you ask,” Sam started. “I promised not to tell you.”

Dean gaped. “You’re telling me that you went from pushing her for answers to keeping her secrets in an hour?”

Sam tightened his lips over his teeth and nodded. “This one at least.”

“Why?”

Sammy just looked away in shame. “Because I shouldn’t have asked.”

Dean’s chest felt like it was full of fire. “Yeah. I know that already. Why did you? Why not ask about the farmhouse or how she got here so fast? Why not ask about the demon jars or her dad? There were literally a million things you could’ve asked her, and you asked the only thing that was fucking personal.”

Sam’s shoulders were tense. “I don’t know, Dean. I was angry.”

“Why!” Dean snapped.

“I don’t know!” Sam stood up suddenly, the action nearly knocking his chair over. “I just don’t feel like we can trust her, and I wanted her to know she wasn’t pulling the wool of my eyes.”

“And you thought making her relive a traumatizing experience would make you seem all big and bad?” Dean yelled.

Sammy’s face fell, anger giving way to guilt as he slid back down into his chair.

“What the hell is wrong with you man? You’re the one that’s always mister sensitive, with your fucking big puppy dog eyes and shit. Do you hate Lou that much?” Dean asked in disbelief.

Sam swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. “I’m sorry, Dean. I know it wasn’t right. I apologized to her too, okay?”

There was silence between them as Dean tried to organize his thoughts. He was so angry at his brother that he didn’t think an apology made any difference.

Dean tried to quell his anger. “How bad was it?”

Sam looked up at Dean in confusion, but Sam quickly realized what he was asking. Sam pursed his lips. “Pretty bad. Worse than anything we’ve experienced.”

Dean felt his stomach flip.

“Was she okay, when she left?” Dean asked.

Sam squirmed in his seat and shrugged. “She was holding it together.”

Dean had known Sam all his life, and he knew without a doubt that his brother was lying.

* * *

Lou had barely been able to hold herself together as she asked the motel clerk for a room. The woman at the front desk looked her over with more than a little sympathy.

“Sure thing, hun,” the clerks voice had a drawl to it that was surprisingly soothing. The woman handed her a key and smiled warmly, “There’s an ice cream shop down the street.”

Lou’s voice cracked. “Excuse me?”

“Whenever I fight with my husband, I take a little time to myself and have some ice cream,” the clerk explained. The woman placed her hand over Lou’s, her red nails a little too long. “A girl as pretty as you, I’m sure he’ll straighten right up.”

Lou let lose a watery smile and decided it would be easiest to just go with the assumption. “Thanks.”

The clerk patted her hand a few times and smiled again. “No problem.”

Thankfully, Lou left the office without anymore conversation and found her room just a few doors down from the boys. She scrambled into the room desperately and locked herself inside. The quiet of the room enveloped her as she leaned back against the door.

She couldn’t make herself move any further into the room, she had been putting all of her effort into retaining a modicum of composure and even then, she’d cried in front of Sam and some stranger at a motel front desk. Now with no witnesses but herself she unraveled like spool of thread.

Sobs shook her entire body as she fell to the floor in a pile. Recounting to Sam the worst experience of her life was horrific at best. The only other people she’d ever told were Bobby, Ms. Roe, and a therapist.

Sam seeing her cry was one of the most mortifying experiences she’d had in a long time. Knowing Sam knew the truth behind her scars left her feeling weak, even knowing that Sam had seen the scars at all made her feel sick to her stomach.

She curled her knees up her chest and cried until she couldn’t hardly breath. Wiping her face on her shirt, she sniffled pathetically. She needed to get a hold of herself. She couldn’t spend the whole day crying.

She was thankful that Dean hadn’t been there to witness it. She didn’t think she could stand Dean knowing that about her. As it was bad enough that Sam knew, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look him in the eye again.

Lou’s phone began to ring loudly, and the sound echoed around in her head. Hoping for a distraction, she winced when she saw that it was Ellen calling her.

Lou answered the phone with a sniff, “Yeah?”

“Lou?” Ellen asked in confusion.

“Yeah,” Lou repeated. “What is it?”

“Hey, sorry. It didn’t sound like you at first,” Ellen said carefully. “You alright?”

“Fine.” The lie came out easy, without a second thought. “What is it?”

“I uh. Well I was just calling to let you know Sam Winchester called to ask about you,” Ellen said with a little hesitation.

“Yeah, I know,” Lou answered gruffly.

“Oh,” Ellen said. “I normally wouldn’t have said anything, but he knew your first name, so I just told him the usual.”

“That’s fine,” Lou responded tiredly.

“You with him now?” Ellen asked.

Lou cringed. “No.”

After telling Sam about the scars Lou hadn’t been able to stay in the same room as him. She needed some time to put herself back together, and it was pretty clear that Sam felt guilty about it once she’d answered his question.

His apology had been clumsy at best, but he admitted that he was jealous of Lou. Dean hadn’t been the same since he made the deal, but he always looked happy around Lou which was tearing Sam up inside. Sam felt like Lou was taking what little he had left of his brother, and Lou couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. His big brother was going to die, and Sam just wasn’t handling it well. Then again, neither was Dean.

Ellen pressed on regardless. “Oh, but you are working a case with them, right?”

Lou sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Sort of, yeah.”

“Good,” Ellen said with a smile. “Those guys can use all the help they can get. They’re sweet boys but damn if they aren’t a mess.”

Lou wanted to laugh but the sound was strangled.

Quiet crinkled over the phone line before Ellen ventured another question, “Are you uh… that is, do you know about Dean’s deal?”

Lou tensed. “I’m aware. Yes.”

Ellen hesitated. “Are you gonna help him?”

A heavy frown slipped over Lou’s lips, the question weighing on her before Ellen had even asked. “I don’t know. I looked into it when Bobby called to ask about Demon Deals out of the blue…”

Lou had also looked into it when she heard a rumor about it being Dean who sold his soul.

“And?” Ellen pressed.

“I don’t know Ellen. I’ve already done more than I normally would,” Lou explained. “Normally, I’d just say they made their bed and now they’ve got to lie in it…”

“I’m sensing a but here…” Ellen said slowly.

Lou tensed. “No buts. I’m just human. I don’t want him to die any more than you do.”

“That would seem imply that you’re gonna do something to prevent that from happening,” Ellen reasoned.

Lou sighed and dropped her head back against the door in frustration. “Ellen, it’s not that simple.”

The older woman didn’t respond right away and there was silence between them.

“Could you though? Do something about it?” Ellen finally asked.

Lou clenched her jaw. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

The thought made Lou shiver, weaseling out a deal would mean greasing a lot of palms and demons weren’t known to take piddly bribes. The other option was blowing through the chain of command on a demonic bloodbath, which sounded equally unpleasant. It wouldn’t be an easy feat either way, and it was likely to not work at all.

“Maybe is more of a chance than he’s got now,” Ellen pointed out.

Lou sniffed again and ran her hand over her face in defeat, today was so much more than she bargained for.

“Ellen,” her voice cracked a little. “I’m not a miracle worker.”

“Whoa there, I wasn’t trying to pressure you sweetie,” Ellen comforted. “I was just saying, if anyone knew a way out of a demon deal it’d be you.”

Lou swallowed. “Yeah, I know.” Her voice wobbled a lot more than she wanted it to.

“Hey, what’s wrong sweetie?” Ellen questioned gently. “You sound like you’ve been crying.”

Lou shook her head. “It’s nothing.” She tried her best to smile even if Ellen couldn’t see her. “I’ve gotta go, Ellen. I’ll talk to you later.”

Lou hung up without giving the older woman a chance to answer and tossed the phone aside as she collapsed into herself all over again.

Confirmation of Dean’s deal and the conversation she just had with Sammy was far too much for her to process.

She felt exposed and vulnerable like this. Her concern over Dean was like a bleeding heart on her sleeve and her past was scratching at the back of her mind relentlessly. Explaining it to Sammy left the memories vibrant in her thoughts. Her scars itched terribly as she curled into herself, cowering against the back of the door like frightened child.

Lou desperately tried to focus, to pull herself together before it was too late.

She needed five things. Five things to center herself.

She put a hand on the itchy brown motel carpet, she inhaled the smell of Lysol and cigarettes, she listened to the sound of the heater working overtime, she thought about the lime green curtains, and she felt the smooth wooden door at her back.

She counted these things over and over, desperate to ground herself in the here and now, only to be swallowed up by memories again.

* * *

Dean waited all day for Lou to call or text or come back to the room, but she didn’t. Sammy let the day drag on in silence, and Dean hated him for it.

Unable to wait any longer, Dean coerced the front desk clerk into giving him Lou’s room number. It was easier than it should’ve been, the woman at the desk had convinced herself of a narrative where Dean was coming to apologize about a fight and had scolded Dean for upsetting Lou in the first place. It was easier to play along than correct her and it really wasn’t too far off from the truth the begin with.

Dean found Lou’s room a few doors down from his, but when he got there, he couldn’t do anything but stand listlessly outside her door.

What should he say? What was there to say? In the span of a few hours it felt like everything between them had gone wrong.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and knocked.

Lou came to the door quickly but hesitated before opening it.

She smiled at him but there was a clear ring of red around her eyes and Dean’s chest felt tight.

For the moment any frustration he felt towards Lou dissipated and he was only furious with his brother for making the girl cry.

“Hey, I just ordered some Chinese food, want to come in?” she asked in a breezy tone.

Dean just nodded and slipped into her room. Once the door was closed, something took over him, and he moved without thinking. Something about the way her smile hollowed out across her lips and her eyes not quite meeting his drove through him recklessly. It distressed him to see her that way, and he wanted to sweep the pain away.

He reached out and drew his fingers over her cheek lightly, his hand lingering on her skin as though to savor the feeling. Her breath hitched.

“You’ve been crying,” he stated, anger burning his words.

Lou brushed his hand away in embarrassment. “I’m fine, Dean. Let it go.”

“I’m gonna beat the snot out of him,” Dean grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets at the clear rejection of his touch.

“Don’t you dare, Winchester. The Sasquatch has every right to be nervous. The last strange hunter you trusted is hunting you now, and he’s really struggling with your stupid deal,” Lou snapped making her way to the table.

Dean turned to look at her in disbelief. “He talked to you about that?”

Lou shrugged as she sat down. “A little, I already had my own suspicions.”

Dean shifted back uncomfortably. “What you do you mean?”

“Well, for one Bobby called me up out of the blue a while back, asking about Crossroad Deals and if there was any way to break them,” she said. “Everything else has just been little things. Sam’s behavior was the biggest clue.”

“Is that all you talked about?” Dean asked knowing the answer.

Lou frowned. “No.”

“Care to fill in the rest?” he tried.

Lou looked away from him and stared at the floor. “No.”

“Why?” he urged. “Why tell him and not me?”

“Because I’m selfish,” Lou’s voice cracked. “And you not knowing makes me feel normal.”

Dean genuinely hadn’t expected that answer. He made her feel normal? What did that mean? What did it have to do with scars?

“I make you feel… normal?” he repeated.

Lou’s cheeks flushed lightly, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah. Back home I’m Miss Roe’s Mystery heiress, to hunters I’m the demon expert, to Bobby I’m a little orphan girl he rescued, but to you… I don’t know. We grew up the same way, you know. We’ve seen shit and we’ve both dealt with it the best we could.” She leaned back in the chair and sighed, letting her defensive posture slip and dropping her hands into her lap. “I don’t know, you just make me feel… normal.”

Dean waited. “And telling me about your scars… You think it would change something between us?”

Lou refused to look up as she nodded.

Dean took a moment before asking bitterly, “You’re sure it’s not because you don’t trust me?”

Lou looked up in alarm. “What? Dean, no. I.” She slumped further into her chair, “It’s not about trust… I wouldn’t have offered the question if I thought Sam was going to ask about the,” she swallowed. “I didn’t realize you guys knew about that. That you’d seen them that night... I’d hoped… I don’t know. I’d hoped that it was too dark or something.”

“But this isn’t the first time you’ve kept things from me,” Dean pointed out. “You’re always so vague about things and on that trip to New York you lied without even thinking. Then you offer Sam an all access pass to truth and kick me out of the room? What am I supposed to think, Lou?”

Lou took a breath as she tried to find her words. She crossed her arms over her chest again and gripped her arms in frustration. “I’ve got a lot of family shit that I’ve got to play close to the vest. Some of its habit but most of the time, it’s to keep people safe. I don’t ever mean to keep things from you and every time I do, I feel…” her voice gave out and her eyes frantically searched the floor for some way out of the conversation. “I hate keeping things from you because I do trust you. More than I’ve ever trusted anyone. But there are somethings I just can’t tell you.”

Dean had no idea what to say back. He was dumb stuck by the emotion in her voice and the honesty in what she was saying. She trusted him, but she going to keep things from him regardless of that trust? What did that even mean?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Before Dean could respond there was a knock on the door and a mask fell over Lou’s expression. She was up and at the door with smile before he could blink. She chatted politely with the delivery guy and gave him a generous tip. The change in behavior startled him and he could see now how practiced she was at hiding. No matter how vulnerable she might be, she showed no weakness to the outside world. Except to him. Here and now she was on the verge of falling apart. He could see the loose threads and knew that it would take so little to make her unravel.

She closed the door and her shoulders dropped with exhaustion. Whatever secrets she had, in this moment Lou had never been more open with him than she was right now.

She turned to Dean with a hopeful glint in her eye.

“Chinese?” She held out the bag and gave him half a smile.

Dean thought back to the night before, and the way Lou had so simply accepted when he didn’t want to talk about it. He thought about the word normal and realized she was right. It was easy between them. He didn’t want to ruin that. If she could live without answers, so could he.

“Chinese is good,” he said with a shrug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing was a bit rushed this week due to the length of the chapter, but hopefully it's not too bad! It will get another round of edits at some point...  
> As always, thanks to my lovely readers for taking the time to read and comment on my story:)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again readers! This is my first story on Archive of Our Own, but I've been writing casually for a long time. I've been working up to a full novel and I'm using this as an opportunity to test my skill. Please feel free to give any constructive criticism you might have. I'm striving for improvement with every chapter!
> 
> Fair warning this story is already mostly written and I have just under 200 hundred pages so far. So if you're looking for a long term read I'm your girl, if not... you should probably stop here. Part 2 will be explicit, as will part 3.


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